Poston Post-its: Ninety-Seventh Passage

My birth story

Okay, are you ready for the details of the labor story? It's really long, and probably more detailed than you want, but it's for posterity. And my own journal and reference.

Tuesday, November 5th, I had an ultra-sound scheduled since I was almost a week overdue. They needed to see how baby was doing after cooking for so long. So I loaded Morgan and Lydia up and took them with me, as I have in the past. The appointment was at 1:30.

The tech did the ultrasound and told me nothing about anything, as is the rule. But then the doctor came in and told me what she found. He said my fluids were very low. You're supposed to have at least 2 inches (or something) on both sides of the baby, and they were barely able to get 1 inch of fluids all together. This indicated a bad placenta. He told me they would need to induce labor. Today. Like, now. I was at a building on the hospital campus already. The maternity ward was just across the street, and my midwife was there. I was instructed to go over and find her and work out a plan. So, kids in tow, I did as instructed, and called David on my way. I told him to leave work, go home and finish packing the hospital bag, (I'd already made a packing list and showed him where it and the partially packed bag were) and the car seat. I also asked him to give his mom a heads up that we'd need a sitter, but I didn't know if I would be going home and dropping off the kids, or if she'd need to come and get them.

I got to the maternity ward at about 1:50 and explained to the nurses at the desk that I was there to talk to my midwife, Margie. They looked at me like I wasn't speaking English. I repeated that I was sent there to find my midwife to talk about a plan for induction. Once again they responded as though they'd never heard of her, and was I sure I had the right place? Finally a nurse came and asked my name and said, "Oh, we're expecting you. Come with me." They led me to a hospital room and acted as though I was going to be admitted right then. I thought I was just going to talk about a plan though, so I held off on putting the gown on. Soon my midwife showed up and informed me that no, I would not be going home, this baby needed to be delivered right away. She explained that with fluid as low as it was, every moment we waited increased the chance of c-section. The reasons for this was that the cord didn't have enough water to float around in, which meant it was much more likely to get pinched and cut off life supply to my baby. Hospital gown it was. Margie was super helpful though, and she took Morgan and Lydia to the pantry to pick a popsicle and juice while I changed into the flattering gown. I settled into the bed and the kids settled in front of the TV where Cartoon Network was located for them.

Every chance I could get I was communicating with David. He had questions and still needed to know all the changes in plans. It was decided that he would pick up his mother and she would drive Morgan and Lydia to her house in our van.

I was given the IV with the water solution. Margie checked my cervix while the kiddos were sufficiently distracted. She said I was dilated to a 3, which was a cm more than in her office the day before.

Lydia went to the bathroom and pulled the emergency cord. The nurses responded so quickly it was impressive. And embarrassing. Oh, Lydia.

I updated my family and facebook and waited for David. He arrived around 4:00. They started the pitocin a bit after 5:00. The contractions started coming, and with them, the baby's heart rate started dropping. They fiddled with the amount of pitocin, but her little heart wasn't liking it at all. This was when it started looking like they'd have to do a c-section. But first they were going to try one more thing. They turned off the pitocin and called my midwife back to the hospital. The one last chance procedure to do included breaking my water, sticking a catheter up into the womb and keeping a constant trickle of water pumped into it to give the baby and cord that cushion they lacked.

Upon my request, David gave me a quick priesthood blessing that things would go well.

I think it was around 6:30 when Margie came in and broke my water. It was more uncomfortable than I remember it being, and there wasn't even a gush of water. Nothing came out. And not only did she break my water, she inserted the little tube used to fill the womb with fluid, as well as a contraction monitor. Before undergoing this procedure I asked if I should expect much pain. I was reassured that no, it wouldn't be painful, but I could expect some pressure. We all know what that means. I definitely felt pressure and horrible cramping and lots of pain. It wasn't at all fun.

So there I lay, broken water, wires and tubes hanging out of me. When the baby wiggled the wire taped to my leg also wiggled, which was a little strange.

It wasn't long before the baby's heart rate monitor on my skin stopped getting good readings. A couple of nurses came in to try to find the heartbeat. They moved the monitor all over my belly sometimes picking up a much too low heart rate, but mostly getting nothing. They had me lay on my left side, but that didn't work, so they had me lay on my right side. That didn't work either. They had me get up on all fours and they put an oxygen mask on me, but they still couldn't get a good heartbeat. So my midwife came back and decided to insert a heart rate monitor into the womb as well. At first she tried to do it while I was up on all fours and I tell you what, it hurt like crazy. I couldn't keep myself from flinching away. Eventually she had me lay back on my back. It still hurt to the same degree, but it was harder to squirm away. Oh, the long lasting pain. Oh, the indignity. But it finally ended and they finally could read her heartbeat, and the heartbeat finally recovered. Oh, and Margie said that with all the irritating she did to me, she stretched the dilation to a 5.

After awhile of having a happy baby, they turned the pitocin on again. I started really feeling the contractions and thought that an epidural would be in order. With my last two births nothing really progressed until I had the epidural, so I was thinking ahead.

It was probably around 9:00 that I got the epidural. I hate getting them, but I like having them. The results were pretty instant, and I was a happy camper. I snoozed. The contractions weren't doing very good. They were too close together and too weak. They fiddled with the pitocin levels but could never get it to a point that they liked. I was checked somewhere around 9:30-10:00 but I was still measuring at 5 cms dilated. We predicted a long night ahead of us.

It was around midnight that I called the nurse in because I needed to push. Actually, it didn't really feel like I needed to push, per se, it felt like something was rushing down my birth canal with each contraction.

The nurse came in and was very skeptical. She offered a bed pan. I clenched my legs with contractions. She finally agreed to check me though, since it had been a couple hours. I believe her words went something like, "Holy moly, that's a head." So she left to get the midwife and all the tools for baby deliver. I tell you, they took so long. My contractions were coming every couple of minutes and I could feel a large mass moving closer to the opening with each of them. I seriously had my legs clenched. It was at 12:08 that David sent a vox to my family telling them that I was ready to push. Which was right after I was checked.

Margie came in, along with a couple other nurses, one specifically in charge of taking care of my baby. But they were still bustling around getting things ready. I didn't have time for that, especially after they stuck my feet on the stir-ups. It made it rather difficult to clench at that point. With the first contraction in that position I mentioned that it felt like the baby's head was right at my vaginal opening. David gave a quick peak, said "nope" and stepped away to set the phone down. But then Margie looked and said, "oh yes it is." David looked again and said, "holy cow, that wasn't there before." He later told me that it wasn't just crowning, half her head was already out.

Margie whipped some gloves on, forewent the drape to protect her from goopiness, grabbed hold of a head and told me to push. Without the aid of a contraction, I did as commanded. And I could tell it was a weak effort, but it did the trick. At 12:18 Wednesday morning, the baby was born.

They put her on my chest and started the rub down and the nose and mouth suctioning. David cut the umbilical cord.

The baby screamed and screamed, which lasted a good half hour or probably more.

While our daughter was being tended to, I delivered the placenta. It pretty much just came out on its own too. Margie seemed pretty fascinated with it and commented on how degraded it was, and even calcified in some places. They called it a grade three placenta, though I don't really know the significance of that.

The baby was weighed at a whopping 5 pounds 13 ounces. So tiny! No wonder she just slid out. I wonder how small she'd have been if I weren't a week late. She was also 17 inches long.

When she was a little cleaner and swaddled up, they let me have her back. I held her as she cried in protest of being born. She was tiny and beautiful.

David got a turn to hold her too.

Soon he got to help bathe her, and I fed her for the first time, successfully.

Because of her size, they had to do several blood sugar tests around feedings to ensure she was getting enough. Every time the results were really good.

I'm not sure when it was, but sometime during the first day David and I decided we'd name her Allison. Allison Claire Poston. We knew it was going to be Allison or Sarah, but waited to meet her to decide. Seeing her really didn't make the decision clear, but without really thinking about it I kept calling her and thinking of her as Allison. We'll call her Alli for short.

After hardly any sleep the new day started. Lisa brought all the kids to meet their new sister. Every one of them asked me at one point why I still looked pregnant. Lydia formed the question differently though. "There a baby in your tummy?" They all liked their new sister though.

After they left, a pediatrician came in to see Alli. He checked her out and said she looked great; healthy and vigorous. We let him know that we were hoping to be released that day. He let us know that he wanted to keep her for 24 hours for observation. We let him know that we would be happy to set up an appointment with our pediatrician for the next morning just to make sure everything was okay. He let us know that while that sounded fine, it was very unlikely that we'd be able to get in to see anyone so short notice. The doctor also asked about the ultrasounds that I had while pregnant and the early concerns because of the calcifications. We answered those questions and also let him know that the ultra-sound specialist doctors were no longer concerned about any of that because it all cleared up.

When the doctor left, David called our pediatric office and successfully obtained an appointment for the next morning. We were not eager to stay another night, especially David since the chair they brought in for him was a broken recliner that was very uncomfortable. Oh, and we were still in the cramped delivery room because all of the fancy recovery rooms were full.

We let our nurse know that we were ready to leave and that we had an appointment scheduled for Allison. She let the doctor know. The pediatrician then called our room. David took the call. Apparently the pediatrician had done some reading about the calcifications that were seen on some of the earlier ultrasounds and was concerned about it. So he ordered an x-ray for Alli. He wanted to make sure everything was okay. But she'd already pooped and eaten just fine, which was apparently a sign that there was nothing wrong. And the doctors who specialized in the ultrasounds and reading them were no longer concerned about Alli, and we were told that if there was a concern after she was born, they would order an ultrasound on her abdomen. An x-ray seemed much less safe for our baby. I wasn't eager to have it done, and neither was David. We didn't think it was necessary. I didn't like the idea of radiation going into my brand new baby. But we also wanted to go home, and the pediatrician didn't seem to want us to leave before checking out her abdomen.

The x-ray machine was wheeled into our room. Allison was unwrapped and stripped to her diaper. David and I were instructed to keep our distance because the radiation was unsafe. The nurses that were helping get it all set up made a wide girth, and then our baby was x-rayed. All of us adults with strong bodies and healthy immune systems were kept at bay to keep us safe from the procedure they were deliberately inflicting on a brand new infant. Why did I let that happen?

Anyway, just as I suspected, the x-ray showed that everything was just fine.

But we still weren't being released. Now the doctor said he wanted to keep her there till morning to monitor her peeing and pooping and temperature. We were sentenced to another night at the hospital. Fortunately we were finally moved to a recovery room. It was much homier, larger, and had a double bed that David and I could share.

The day went by in a blur. We tried napping, we ate, I fed the baby, had my vitals checked lots of times, messy diapers and feedings were documented, pain pills were administered, Allison passed her hearing screening.

The next morning the pediatrician was back. He showed up right when our nurse was about to administer an oxygenation test. The pediatrician did his thing first. He once again said she looks great, and this time said he'd get the release papers all figured out. Yay!

A doctor also came in to release me.

Allison had the oxygenation test done on her right after the pediatrician left, which meant she was cold and crying because of being unwrapped and manipulated. So guess what? She didn't pass the test. Our nurse told us she would have to retake it in an hour or so. We grudgingly accepted the news. It wasn't too bad though, we still had to get things gathered up and packed.

But remember our overly concerned pediatrician? He heard about the failing of the test and determined that Alli wasn't ready to go home after all. In fact, he now was saying that she had looked a little pale to him. Huh. Her color looked great to us, and he hadn't mentioned anything about her looking pale before...

He had a new method of torture for us. Now he wanted Allison to be taken to the NICU to be monitored for 6 hours just to make sure her oxygen levels were okay. Gah! We fought it at first, but he sent our nurse in to try to scare us into it with horror stories of how a failed test in her past meant congenital heart disease for a baby, and how it's not a likely thing, but it's best just to be sure, and she assured us that the 6 hours in the NICU wouldn't be an extra charge because it would just be for monitoring, but after that it would be an admittance.

So instead of packing up to go home, we packed up to go upstairs to the NICU. But first I changed into some real clothes. It was nice to finally be out of the hospital gown.

Alli had her own little station and nurse. They strapped a couple monitors to her to measure her heartbeat and oxygen levels at all times. And guess what? Just as always, things looked great. There were occasional drops in her oxygen levels when she was unwrapped and cold and crying.

David and I stole away for a little while and left the hospital for lunch. There wasn't really much we could do for Allison at that point.

After three hours of monitoring we were ready for the pediatrician to be informed of how well she was doing. The nurse kept indicating that she was doing great and that there was really nothing to worry about. Just as we suspected. But guess what? Our pediatrician was still concerned. He recommended that we stay for the next three hours for further observation. We were ready to go though, so David told the nurse that, no, we were ready to leave and we wouldn't be staying the extra three hours. You could see the poor nurse raise her defenses. Suddenly she was defending the Dr. and saying that Alli's oxygenation did drop when she was crying, so maybe the doctor knew what he was saying. The two went back and forth a little bit, and finally the nurse said she would call the doctor back. She did and put him on with David.

David made the point with the pediatrician that we'd already had the baby on the monitors for three hours. We'd seen her sleep, cry, eat, etc. and knew how the monitors reacted to each situation. So what would another three hours of monitoring tell us that we didn't already know? The doctor finally conceded that David was right, three hours more wouldn't tell us anything, which is why he wanted to keep Alli for an additional 24 hours. What?! David said we were just ready to go, so that's what we were going to do. The doctor said he couldn't sign any release papers. So David requested a second opinion. The doctor agreed to call the neonatologist and discuss with her.

After several minutes of waiting, the neotalogist came in to our little section in the NICU to discuss what she'd talked about with the pediatrician. She explained a little more about what they were doing and why the doctor was concerned, and when David repeated his logic about more monitoring doing nothing for us we were a little surprised when the doctor said, "I agree, that's why I suggested we just do an ultra-sound on her heart now, and if it checks out, we can send you home tonight." Ah-ha! A solution that looked like a solution! Apparently the pediatrician was concerned that Allison was a candidate for congenital heart disease, but that wouldn't be apparent until a few days after birth. Unless we did an ultra-sound, then it would be apparent immediately. Something about babies having an extra valve in the heart while they're in the womb, but in some cases it doesn't close up properly after birth, causing blood to pump out of the heart with nowhere to go, since the umbilical cord is no longer attached.

We agreed to the ultra-sound and waited another long, long, time for them to come up and do it. It also took a long time, probably a good hour. Of course the tech wasn't allowed to tell us if what she was seeing was good or bad.

Toward the end of the ultrasound the neonatologist came back in to see how things were going. Her attitude toward the ultrasound seemed to be like mine, kind of like, "so how is this completely unnecessary procedure going? Smooth as silk? Thought so." Then she mentioned how she didn't know a single baby who's oxygenation didn't drop when they cried. You could tell that she totally thought that our being there was silly. That made me feel validated.

It was a little after 5:00 that the ultrasound was finished. We took Allison back down to our room and ordered dinner from the cafeteria since they expected the results from the ultrasound to take a good 3 hours to be ready. The only doctor specialized enough to read a heart ultrasound of an infant was at a different hospital. So we were super surprised when we got word before 6:00 that we could go home! Oh happy day! We cancelled dinner, packed up the room, got the baby in her going home outfit, put her in the carseat, which she hated, and left.