My stomach hurt. I first complained on a Tuesday evening after dinner. I blamed it on what I thought to be bad spinach. I had a bowel movement the next day. The pain was gone.
My stomach hurt again Thursday morning. I blamed it on the leftover piece of fried chicken from the grocery store that I hurriedly ate because Maria had her first pediatrician appointment during the lunch hour.
My stomach pain lingered into the next morning. Russ was supposed to leave for Charleston early Friday to accept his CPA Merit Award. He offered to stay behind to care for me and take me to an urgent care clinic, but I quickly told him no. I doubted their treatment plan, predicting that I just needed to have another bowel movement, which I had and was soon pain free.
On Monday, I complained of a sore throat before Russ left for work. My caring husband went to the grocery store and brought home orange juice, chicken broth, and throat lozenges before leaving me that morning. My stomach soon started to hurt yet again which trumped my complaint of a sore throat. I was praying to God to help me get through the pain and apologizing to Maria for not being myself as I breastfed her.
Unlike the previous week, I had a bowel movement that morning and the pain did not go away. I began to worry of the possible reasons for this pain. The pain was localized to my left lower abdominal quadrant. I ruled out constipation and a small bowel obstruction. Maybe a urinary tract infection? Weird spot to feel pain though. Could it be my ovary? No. I have never had any problems with my reproductive system. Perhaps colon or ovarian cancer? Scary thought.
Russ called during his lunch as he usually does. He asked me how I was doing. I told him I was feeling stomach pain again, but this time it was not going away. He asked if he should leave work. I finally said yes. I needed him to care for me and Maria. The pain was so great that I could no longer refuse professional medical help. After packing the diaper bag, we were on the road.
I was going back and forth between going to urgent care or the emergency department. I always question whether or not insurance will cover the complaint. On the way there, Russ asked me to rate my pain. I told him it was an 8. He made the executive decision to take me to the ER. He dropped me off at the door while he parked the car. I registered at the front desk and proceeded to wait in the waiting area. I rocked back and forth quietly praying, "Oh, God" repeatedly. I was seen in triage without too much of a wait. Waiting for a room is what took awhile. So I continued to rock and pray in the waiting area while Russ rocked and played with Maria.
We were finally called back once I was assigned a room. I slowly walked to meet the ER patient care assistant. She took one look at me and asked if I needed a wheelchair. I asked how far the room was. She said it was at the other side of the department. Russ spoke up for me and said that I needed the wheelchair. The PCA soon whisked me off to the long-awaited room. Shortly after we were in the room, I felt nauseated and Russ brought the trash can to my side. I blamed the nausea on the quick transport from the waiting area to my room.
While I was grateful for finally being in a room, the waiting process there continued along with my intense pain, my rocking for comfort, and my simple mantra. It was almost an hour before I hit the call light to ask for assistance. When a nurse finally responded, I asked for a warm blanket and if someone was going to check me in soon. While it took her a while to finally meet my requests, she soon redeemed herself by getting the ball rolling with the admission and kindly keeping us informed on what was going on.
When she asked me to rate my pain level, I told her it was still at an 8 but approaching a 9. The ED doctor came in shortly after to evaluate me. He ordered a CT of the abdomen and pain medicine. When I questioned whether or not it was okay to still breastfeed with narcotics, he advised that I "pump and dump" while I received the narcotics. When he left, I asked Russ to hand over Maria so I could nurse her one last time before we had to introduce formula to her and before I received the IV narcotic.
Before I was transported to CT, I was given 2 mg of Morphine. Prior to the scan, I could not help but notice that the Morphine still had not kicked in. The CT tech recognized me as a familiar face from 6 North. After the scan, she told me that it could possibly be kidney stones. She transported me back to my room in the ED. I shared with Russ and my nurse what the CT tech thought it could be. I guess that kidney stones are a common postpartum complaint?
But the kidney stone suspicion was a technician's take, not a radiologist. The ER physician returned to let me know that the CT scan revealed a 12 cm benign teratoma. I assumed that I would be admitted, but he said that if the pain was under control, I might be able to go home. As the 2 mg of Morphine did not work, I could not picture my pain being controlled on some pill form narcotic. He asked me if I had a gynecologist. I told him no and that I had a midwife deliver my baby 4 weeks ago.
The nurse came and asked to rate my pain after the Morphine. I told her it was maybe at a 7 or even still an 8. The doctor then ordered 1 mg of Dilaudid to be given prior to sending me for an abdominal ultrasound. And thank God for Dilaudid! After feeling dizzy for a few seconds after receiving this drug, my pain was next to nil. Once I was being scanned for the ultrasound, I asked the technician why this teratoma was not seen when I had my other ultrasound done at 20 weeks during my pregnancy. She said that it could have been disguised as the bladder, as it is the size of a grapefruit.
When I returned from ultrasound, my new nurse asked how the Dilaudid had worked. I told her that the pain decreased, but was back at a 5 to 6. While I was away at ultrasound, the ER doctor had contacted the gynecologist on call. It was thankfully a physician from the WVU group. She and I had already met briefly at my 25 week appointment. As the pain was still lingering, the gynecologist told the ER physician that because the pain was still present, she wanted to remove the teratoma that night. The ED doctor told us that she would be heading over from Morgantown shortly for this emergent surgery. Russ and I were happy that it was happening during my maternity leave and not later.
Once the gynecologist finally arrived, she explained her plans to remove
this benign teratoma that was 10-12 cm in diameter and an ovary that it
had somehow twisted around. "Pump and dump" had come up in conversation
as was advised by the ED doctor. She told me that his advice was
incorrect, as mothers who had cesarean sections were on narcotics and
still breastfed. How could I forget that? She told me that I could still
nurse Maria prior to surgery, but I needed to "pump and dump" for 24
hours from the start time of surgery due to the anesthesia. We were now awaiting the operating room staff to come in. When she
left, I asked Russ to hand over Maria yet again before I received the
anesthesia.
My husband and I had discussed the possibility of this surgery so matter-of-factly between ourselves should it happen. When we were told that it was actually going to occur that very evening, we started calling friends and family to inform them and request their prayers. We both had trouble making it through conversations without tears in our eyes and shaky voices. We had asked our dear friend Kate to be present as almost another parent for Maria while I was unable to be my full self. Without question, she was there for us. Actually the only relevant question she asked was if we would like to use the breastmilk that was left behind of a fellow mother whom she used to work with. As we knew that this mother followed a relatively good diet, we gratefully said of course we will feed Maria with her breastmilk! Since I had to dispose of my breastmilk, it certainly beats formula! I had also called a fellow nurse friend and asked if she could track down some formula samples from the OB floor just in case we ran out of the breastmilk.
At about 10 o'clock that night, I was taken to surgery. I told Russ to take Maria home that night as they could both be more comfortable there. I assured him that the nurses would take good care of me. The OR transport tech, who I usually interact with being charge nurse on the floor, meticulously transported me over bumps on the way to the OR. I was grateful for her kind consideration with my abdominal pain. My last memories prior to surgery were saying goodbye to my two loves and two supportive friends who were present, receiving an anesthetic through my IV from the nurse anesthetist, and being lifted from the stretcher to the surgery table.
As I awoke after surgery, I remember trying to talk to the nurses with a sort of oxygen tent on my face. At that point, the anesthesiologist and the gynecologist were the ones now saying their goodbyes to me, their patient. The details I recalled from what the gynecologist told me that night was that the surgery went well, I could breastfeed again by 10 that night, and she would see me in the morning.
When the majority of the OR team had left, there were only two nurses left behind. I thanked them for coming in on short notice. They told me they had to be there as they are PACU nurses. I looked around the room to become acquainted with my environment and realized I had been there many times as a nurse to pick up PCA pumps and/or to transport patients back up to 6 North. As I was the only patient left in the recovery room, these two nurses were most enjoyable to talk to. Because the anesthesia effects were wearing off, I suddenly remembered these two helping out on our floor to start the difficult IVs that no one else could place. When asked about my pain, I actually rated it as a zero, but it would probably increase with movement.
After I was given excellent care by these two nurses, they transported me up to the OB floor. I continued to be blessed by a very caring night nurse. Just as my manager tells our staff, it is truly the little things that matter to the patients. From a patient's outlook, I was so thankful that my small requests of ice water, warm blankets, and a pen were given as I asked. The OB nurse took the time to patiently show me how to "pump and dump" with their very classy hospital grade Medela pump. I was in awe of how this gadget works! Prior to this pumping experience, I was very antsy for when I would need to start pumping.
Later that morning, the gynecologist came in and reviewed what happened during surgery. She told me that once I urinated, walked, and passed gas, I could go home. I didn't even have to have a bowel movement? I was thrilled at the thought of going home that day if I could accomplish those 3 goals.
And I did.
(My recovery from surgery story may or may not make it as another post!)
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
My labor story
To any interested reader in this story, I am going to rewind a bit to what I wrote in the previous post. At week 38, I was already dilated to 3 cm but without active contractions. By the next week's appointment, Dawn, my midwife, found that I was 5-6 cm dilated and again without active contractions. She successfully encouraged my bag of waters to break in the office. We were ordered to head home and take care of a few things, as she would be seeing us again in a few short hours.
Once we ate, showered, packed, and notified the important family and friends of the impending birth of our child, Russ and I decided to try and rest in bed prior to going to the hospital. As I was starting to feel the contractions faintly, I asked him to start timing them. He quickly noted that they were about 5 minutes apart. We started moving once again, but this time out the door. I thought I noticed my husband becoming slightly tearful before we left the apartment, but maybe I was imaging that?
We registered in the lobby then made our way with belongings in tow to the OB floor. As we reached the nurse's station, I was told that I needed to be checked in triage first. Fortunately, Dawn strolled right in and told the nurses that I could skip triage and be admitted as a regular patient. She could certainly validate that my water had broken! I felt as though I were still leaking a lot! She made sure that we had the room at the very end of the hall, which was not only the largest on the floor, but the quietest being on the end. I was grateful for that small gesture of kindness.
Lenore, our doula, had soon arrived and she had thankfully made a sweet treat for the nurses that evening. I was glad she was thoughtful enough to remember them. I was checked in by the nurse just like every other patient. When asked to rate my pain level on that infamous 0-10 scale, I told her that it was currently zero and with contractions it was at a three. The baby's heartbeat was checked, which was within normal limits. Dawn checked my cervix and found that I was 7 cm dilated. I told her that I felt like I just needed to have a bowel movement.
Lenore suggested that I rock on the birthing ball, squat, take walks, and I happily did. Anything to get this baby to join us out here! At one point, my husband, doula, midwife, and I were all just chatting about life. Someone ironically brought up the fact that everyone was sitting, except the laboring mother. With my high pain tolerance, there were jokes about how I should become a surrogate mother.
Once my cervix was dilated at 9-10 cm, Dawn encouraged me to start pushing. The birth scale for the baby and a table loaded with covered sterile instruments was brought in the room. There were three laboring mothers on the floor that evening. Because I was so far along and labor had been so easy, I was the one expected to deliver the baby first. I later found out that I was the last.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, I had been pushing for nearly 3 hours. On April 10th, I began pushing half an hour before midnight and well beyond that. I tried pushing in the hands and knees position to start. That didn't work so well. I tried pushing on my left side, but in doing that caused pain in my right hip and leg. The bed was then positioned in a chair, which was the winning position for the eventual delivery. Towards the end of my lengthy pushing phase, Dawn asked me to reach down and touch my baby's head. So I did, and felt a head full of hair. I touched my daughter's little head! Amazing. I couldn't believe that the moment to meet our little one was almost here.
On Wednesday, April 11, 2012 at 2:06 in the morning, Maria Joy was born weighing 8 pounds 1 ounce and measuring 20 inches long. With a strong cry, she was raised up for me and Russ to see and placed immediately on my chest. As I didn't have my glasses on and her umbilical cord was blocking her pelvic area, I asked, "Is it a girl?" With glasses on this time, I clearly saw that she was indeed a girl. Our dark-haired, dark-eyed little beauty.
For those of you still engaged in this uneventful labor story, perhaps I can steal your attention regarding the placenta? After Maria was born, Pitocin was started because I did lose a decent amount of blood and there was difficulty in the delivery of the placenta. The Pitocin did its job in prodding the contractions to increase in intensity. Ironically, what I assumed to be the easiest part, delivering the placenta was the most painful portion of my labor and delivery. I now understand why women request an epidural. We had toyed with the idea of saving the placenta and taking it in hopes of preventing post-partum depression. When Lenore brought up the subject again, Dawn seemed more than willing to easily hand the placenta over. As it was not a priority this time around, we passed on the chance.
With our little girl delivered in our arms, so began the journey of parenthood.
Once we ate, showered, packed, and notified the important family and friends of the impending birth of our child, Russ and I decided to try and rest in bed prior to going to the hospital. As I was starting to feel the contractions faintly, I asked him to start timing them. He quickly noted that they were about 5 minutes apart. We started moving once again, but this time out the door. I thought I noticed my husband becoming slightly tearful before we left the apartment, but maybe I was imaging that?
We registered in the lobby then made our way with belongings in tow to the OB floor. As we reached the nurse's station, I was told that I needed to be checked in triage first. Fortunately, Dawn strolled right in and told the nurses that I could skip triage and be admitted as a regular patient. She could certainly validate that my water had broken! I felt as though I were still leaking a lot! She made sure that we had the room at the very end of the hall, which was not only the largest on the floor, but the quietest being on the end. I was grateful for that small gesture of kindness.
Lenore, our doula, had soon arrived and she had thankfully made a sweet treat for the nurses that evening. I was glad she was thoughtful enough to remember them. I was checked in by the nurse just like every other patient. When asked to rate my pain level on that infamous 0-10 scale, I told her that it was currently zero and with contractions it was at a three. The baby's heartbeat was checked, which was within normal limits. Dawn checked my cervix and found that I was 7 cm dilated. I told her that I felt like I just needed to have a bowel movement.
Lenore suggested that I rock on the birthing ball, squat, take walks, and I happily did. Anything to get this baby to join us out here! At one point, my husband, doula, midwife, and I were all just chatting about life. Someone ironically brought up the fact that everyone was sitting, except the laboring mother. With my high pain tolerance, there were jokes about how I should become a surrogate mother.
Once my cervix was dilated at 9-10 cm, Dawn encouraged me to start pushing. The birth scale for the baby and a table loaded with covered sterile instruments was brought in the room. There were three laboring mothers on the floor that evening. Because I was so far along and labor had been so easy, I was the one expected to deliver the baby first. I later found out that I was the last.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, I had been pushing for nearly 3 hours. On April 10th, I began pushing half an hour before midnight and well beyond that. I tried pushing in the hands and knees position to start. That didn't work so well. I tried pushing on my left side, but in doing that caused pain in my right hip and leg. The bed was then positioned in a chair, which was the winning position for the eventual delivery. Towards the end of my lengthy pushing phase, Dawn asked me to reach down and touch my baby's head. So I did, and felt a head full of hair. I touched my daughter's little head! Amazing. I couldn't believe that the moment to meet our little one was almost here.
On Wednesday, April 11, 2012 at 2:06 in the morning, Maria Joy was born weighing 8 pounds 1 ounce and measuring 20 inches long. With a strong cry, she was raised up for me and Russ to see and placed immediately on my chest. As I didn't have my glasses on and her umbilical cord was blocking her pelvic area, I asked, "Is it a girl?" With glasses on this time, I clearly saw that she was indeed a girl. Our dark-haired, dark-eyed little beauty.
For those of you still engaged in this uneventful labor story, perhaps I can steal your attention regarding the placenta? After Maria was born, Pitocin was started because I did lose a decent amount of blood and there was difficulty in the delivery of the placenta. The Pitocin did its job in prodding the contractions to increase in intensity. Ironically, what I assumed to be the easiest part, delivering the placenta was the most painful portion of my labor and delivery. I now understand why women request an epidural. We had toyed with the idea of saving the placenta and taking it in hopes of preventing post-partum depression. When Lenore brought up the subject again, Dawn seemed more than willing to easily hand the placenta over. As it was not a priority this time around, we passed on the chance.
With our little girl delivered in our arms, so began the journey of parenthood.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Numbers at the last appointments
As of the time I am writing this, our beautiful, baby girl was born almost two weeks ago on April 11, 2012. I am still giving thanks to God for my little family of three.
I wanted to back track and record what happened about a month prior to her birthday. During my 33 week baby appointment the last week of February, I had glumly gained 4-5 pounds since the prior 2 week appointment. While it is not an ungodly amount, I could not accept that I gained that much in so little time. Even though I would rather spend my days being tired on the couch, I began my trips back to the gym at least twice a week.
At the 35 week appointment, I happily only gained 2 pounds in 2 weeks. Thank you, gym!
At week 36, it was time for me to get checked for group B strep, a bacterial infection that may harm the newborn if not treated appropriately. I found out a week later that it was thankfully negative.
The midwife also checked my cervix and told me that I was 50% effaced, meaning my cervix was thinning, and the baby was at 0 station, telling us that the baby was already engaged in the pelvis. She was pleased that the baby had made her way down as she did. I was as well, although I was not aware that those numbers could be detected at this point. Do I need to thank the gym again for the effacement and baby being at 0 station?
At 37 weeks, the midwife found that the baby had changed positions into posterior. The little babe had her back against my spine, which is not preferred as it makes for a more difficult labor. When the midwife threw out that I could possibly have a c-section if the baby does not turn, I was not thrilled. She recommended positions to get this baby to turn around. I also consulted with my doula and a dear friend, who I know has had posterior babies before. I started to spend a lot of time on my hands and knees!
At 38 weeks, the baby was still posterior unfortunately. When the midwife checked my cervix this time, I was now 100% effaced, 3 centimeters dilated, and the baby was still at 0 station. She continued to encourage me to do certain positions to get this baby to flip around.
I asked her if she thought that I would have my baby by Easter. She was fairly convinced that I would have her before Easter. She predicted my water would break before the contractions begin, as she could easily feel the bag of waters when she examined me. Russ was even supposed to travel to the Wheeling area for work the next day, but was able to stay behind on the off chance that I could go into labor. I called into work that morning and told them of the latest findings at the appointment. I wanted to make sure I would be covered if I went into labor before that weekend. I called a co-worker who will primarily be playing charge in my position while I am on maternity leave.
By Easter weekend, I still had not gone into labor nor had my water broke. I even went to the OB floor Saturday night to get checked, thinking that the occasional vaginal discharge I was feeling could be that my water broke. But nope. Just normal vaginal discharge. I was on my feet as much as possible all weekend. On Sunday, I had taken the stairs up four, five, and six flights at three different times throughout the day. Since the last appointment, I was so ready for this baby to arrive!
On Easter Monday, the midwife had called to check in to see how I was doing. Same as when she last saw me. The next day at our final 39 week afternoon appointment, the midwife immediately came and did the meet and greet, taking over what the LPN usually does. I got on the scale for the final weigh in of 146 pounds. Wow, did I really gain 40 pounds over these 9 months? The DQ blizzards probably added to that as of late.
When the midwife was feeling my baby belly, she could tell that the baby did indeed flip back around. Thanks be to God! I did have a funny feeling early that morning when I was in a knees to chest position in bed. I suddenly felt as if I had to vomit and quickly sat up, though the only thing I had that early morning was water. Perhaps that was when the baby turned?
When she did the vaginal exam, the midwife found that I was 5-6 cm dilated now. With her two fingers, she told me that she was going to help the bag of waters to break. I was secretly hoping she would. I didn't know if she was going to whip out the crochet hook looking instrument to break it, but soon enough, the gush I always hear about, happened right there in the OB office! The gush seemed to go on for at least 5 minutes. I just laughed at the mess and the reality of my waters finally being broken! Russ kept asking where all the water was going. I guess he couldn't see that it was going down the other side of the exam table, not near him fortunately. The midwife told us to go home, shower, eat, pack, and that the contractions should be starting in a couple hours. So we did as were told.
The labor story is soon to follow...
I wanted to back track and record what happened about a month prior to her birthday. During my 33 week baby appointment the last week of February, I had glumly gained 4-5 pounds since the prior 2 week appointment. While it is not an ungodly amount, I could not accept that I gained that much in so little time. Even though I would rather spend my days being tired on the couch, I began my trips back to the gym at least twice a week.
At the 35 week appointment, I happily only gained 2 pounds in 2 weeks. Thank you, gym!
At week 36, it was time for me to get checked for group B strep, a bacterial infection that may harm the newborn if not treated appropriately. I found out a week later that it was thankfully negative.
The midwife also checked my cervix and told me that I was 50% effaced, meaning my cervix was thinning, and the baby was at 0 station, telling us that the baby was already engaged in the pelvis. She was pleased that the baby had made her way down as she did. I was as well, although I was not aware that those numbers could be detected at this point. Do I need to thank the gym again for the effacement and baby being at 0 station?
At 37 weeks, the midwife found that the baby had changed positions into posterior. The little babe had her back against my spine, which is not preferred as it makes for a more difficult labor. When the midwife threw out that I could possibly have a c-section if the baby does not turn, I was not thrilled. She recommended positions to get this baby to turn around. I also consulted with my doula and a dear friend, who I know has had posterior babies before. I started to spend a lot of time on my hands and knees!
At 38 weeks, the baby was still posterior unfortunately. When the midwife checked my cervix this time, I was now 100% effaced, 3 centimeters dilated, and the baby was still at 0 station. She continued to encourage me to do certain positions to get this baby to flip around.
I asked her if she thought that I would have my baby by Easter. She was fairly convinced that I would have her before Easter. She predicted my water would break before the contractions begin, as she could easily feel the bag of waters when she examined me. Russ was even supposed to travel to the Wheeling area for work the next day, but was able to stay behind on the off chance that I could go into labor. I called into work that morning and told them of the latest findings at the appointment. I wanted to make sure I would be covered if I went into labor before that weekend. I called a co-worker who will primarily be playing charge in my position while I am on maternity leave.
By Easter weekend, I still had not gone into labor nor had my water broke. I even went to the OB floor Saturday night to get checked, thinking that the occasional vaginal discharge I was feeling could be that my water broke. But nope. Just normal vaginal discharge. I was on my feet as much as possible all weekend. On Sunday, I had taken the stairs up four, five, and six flights at three different times throughout the day. Since the last appointment, I was so ready for this baby to arrive!
On Easter Monday, the midwife had called to check in to see how I was doing. Same as when she last saw me. The next day at our final 39 week afternoon appointment, the midwife immediately came and did the meet and greet, taking over what the LPN usually does. I got on the scale for the final weigh in of 146 pounds. Wow, did I really gain 40 pounds over these 9 months? The DQ blizzards probably added to that as of late.
When the midwife was feeling my baby belly, she could tell that the baby did indeed flip back around. Thanks be to God! I did have a funny feeling early that morning when I was in a knees to chest position in bed. I suddenly felt as if I had to vomit and quickly sat up, though the only thing I had that early morning was water. Perhaps that was when the baby turned?
When she did the vaginal exam, the midwife found that I was 5-6 cm dilated now. With her two fingers, she told me that she was going to help the bag of waters to break. I was secretly hoping she would. I didn't know if she was going to whip out the crochet hook looking instrument to break it, but soon enough, the gush I always hear about, happened right there in the OB office! The gush seemed to go on for at least 5 minutes. I just laughed at the mess and the reality of my waters finally being broken! Russ kept asking where all the water was going. I guess he couldn't see that it was going down the other side of the exam table, not near him fortunately. The midwife told us to go home, shower, eat, pack, and that the contractions should be starting in a couple hours. So we did as were told.
The labor story is soon to follow...
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
"Pain with a purpose"
After seeing our midwife for the 33 week appointment today, Russ and I ran into another young pregnant woman in the waiting area, who has been a part of the childbirth classes we have been attending this month. As I stood in line to set up the next appointment, I caught pieces of the conversation Russ was having with her. At some point, I overheard her say, "Pain with a purpose." I looked over at her and we exchanged smiles. Was she quoting what I had shared weeks prior in childbirth class?
During the first class, our instructor was asking us about pain. She first asked us to share the worst pain we've ever felt. Our quiet classroom of couples remained quiet. I personally couldn't think of any significant or interesting pain story other than the occasional charlie horse. A husband behind me shared his pain from herniated discs. We all winced, made groaning noises, and empathized with him.
The instructor then asked us what the difference was with labor pain. While our quiet class continued to remain quiet, I couldn't help but share what I had read about labor pain. Quiet me spoke up and said, "It's pain with a purpose." I don't remember how exactly I built on that, but I remember talking about how the baby is the source of that pain, as he makes his way down the birth canal with each contraction. How can we think that's a bad thing? It's part of the birthing process.
Our instructor clicked on the next Powerpoint slide to show what each letter in the word PAIN represents:
P--Purposeful
A--Anticipated
I--Intermittent
N--Normal
These four words certainly capture and summarize what labor pain will be like for us pregnant women, or so I've read. A number of women who I have spoken with fear labor pain, imagining it as intolerable and/or torturous. Some believe an epidural is a necessity so as to avoid this normal, expected pain. Then an obstetrician may throw in some Pitocin to get the job done quicker. But do we question the side effects to these drugs that are often played down by healthcare providers? To each his own. I am clearly hoping and praying for a natural childbirth, knowing that in the worst case scenario, I may end up with a cesarean section.
What surprised me the most as I did my own reading about childbirth, is that the pain is not constant, but intermittent. When you break it down and reflect on what's really happening during childbirth, the process becomes so much more meaningful and beautiful. While we may fear the pain that we anticipate during labor, we can be comforted in knowing the essence of the pain is this precious tiny human trying to make his way out into the world. It will certainly be pain with a purpose.
During the first class, our instructor was asking us about pain. She first asked us to share the worst pain we've ever felt. Our quiet classroom of couples remained quiet. I personally couldn't think of any significant or interesting pain story other than the occasional charlie horse. A husband behind me shared his pain from herniated discs. We all winced, made groaning noises, and empathized with him.
The instructor then asked us what the difference was with labor pain. While our quiet class continued to remain quiet, I couldn't help but share what I had read about labor pain. Quiet me spoke up and said, "It's pain with a purpose." I don't remember how exactly I built on that, but I remember talking about how the baby is the source of that pain, as he makes his way down the birth canal with each contraction. How can we think that's a bad thing? It's part of the birthing process.
Our instructor clicked on the next Powerpoint slide to show what each letter in the word PAIN represents:
P--Purposeful
A--Anticipated
I--Intermittent
N--Normal
These four words certainly capture and summarize what labor pain will be like for us pregnant women, or so I've read. A number of women who I have spoken with fear labor pain, imagining it as intolerable and/or torturous. Some believe an epidural is a necessity so as to avoid this normal, expected pain. Then an obstetrician may throw in some Pitocin to get the job done quicker. But do we question the side effects to these drugs that are often played down by healthcare providers? To each his own. I am clearly hoping and praying for a natural childbirth, knowing that in the worst case scenario, I may end up with a cesarean section.
What surprised me the most as I did my own reading about childbirth, is that the pain is not constant, but intermittent. When you break it down and reflect on what's really happening during childbirth, the process becomes so much more meaningful and beautiful. While we may fear the pain that we anticipate during labor, we can be comforted in knowing the essence of the pain is this precious tiny human trying to make his way out into the world. It will certainly be pain with a purpose.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Grateful
I am just floored, overwhelmed might be the better word by the myriads of gifts for this tiny human being residing in my womb. It began with a set of diapers from my favorite secretary at work during the first trimester down to an elderly woman who we have never even met. She gave us a check for the baby during our shower this past weekend. While the expected due date is exactly two months from today, she wrote in her card that she hopes the baby will be born on her birthday, April 13th. From gently used gifts to brand spankin' new ones, I am grateful beyond words for the generosity and kindness of so many in our lives.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Baby movement and appointments
I never thought I would want to know the gender of the baby before the little one was born, but my husband wanted to know. So if he knows, I couldn’t be kept in the dark.
At 20 weeks, Russ and I went in early on Monday morning for our baby’s first ultrasound. The sonographer started scanning my belly, telling us that she would do the so-called “boring” pictures first, ie the placenta. Our baby was actively moving to and fro in the womb. I reveled in our little one’s quick movements, which I attribute to morning oatmeal. The sonographer showed us the bladder, kidneys, stomach, spine, the flickering heart. The heart rate was found to be at 160. We watched in amazement. She then pointed out the little feet, the hands, our baby’s profile shot. All was looking good.
When it got to the part of revealing whether it was a boy or girl, our little one seemed to want to keep the gender a secret. The sonographer guessed almost certainly that it is a girl and that the baby was just being modest in not parting her little legs. Afterwards, Russ and I went upstairs to my floor to share the news and show our baby’s first pictures to my co-workers.
Later that week, I had my 20 week appointment with a different OB. I was starting to question why wait for 45 minutes for a 5 minute appointment to find out that everything was just fine? I was clearly not impressed with this OB. In trying to be a compliant patient, I show up for these appointments and also to hear our baby’s heart rate once more, which ticked at 155. I reminded myself that I need to be grateful for these quick uneventful appointments and the good health of our baby.
At 21 weeks, we took our first family photo by the Christmas tree and shared our latest joy on facebook.
At 23 weeks, my fellow pregnant friend and I had our picture taken together, proudly revealing our baby bumps.
At 24 weeks, I am happy to report that the little one has been super active in the womb. A couple weeks ago, I was playing the “push” game with her. Whenever I would feel her kick or punch, I would push back and wait to see if she would react. She often would push back and it would bring the greatest joy to me. Now, I have been pulling up my shirt at home and watching her powerful kicks come to the surface of my abdomen. She has me grinning more often than not. I guess I could also credit her active movements to my husband’s healthy and delicious cooking.
Yesterday, I had my 25 week appointment with an OB I had heard good things about. She lived up to what I had heard. She had a good sense of humor and actually asked me with genuine concern how I was feeling. If I wasn’t set on having the midwife walk with me through the rest of the pregnancy, I would certainly choose this OB. It was the first time anyone measured the fundal height, which was at 25, where it should be. Her heart rate was ranging from 151 to 160. In the middle of the heart rate check, she gave a swift kick or punch at the Doppler wand. The OB said, “I just got kicked!” The babe likes her morning oatmeal.
At 20 weeks, Russ and I went in early on Monday morning for our baby’s first ultrasound. The sonographer started scanning my belly, telling us that she would do the so-called “boring” pictures first, ie the placenta. Our baby was actively moving to and fro in the womb. I reveled in our little one’s quick movements, which I attribute to morning oatmeal. The sonographer showed us the bladder, kidneys, stomach, spine, the flickering heart. The heart rate was found to be at 160. We watched in amazement. She then pointed out the little feet, the hands, our baby’s profile shot. All was looking good.
When it got to the part of revealing whether it was a boy or girl, our little one seemed to want to keep the gender a secret. The sonographer guessed almost certainly that it is a girl and that the baby was just being modest in not parting her little legs. Afterwards, Russ and I went upstairs to my floor to share the news and show our baby’s first pictures to my co-workers.
Later that week, I had my 20 week appointment with a different OB. I was starting to question why wait for 45 minutes for a 5 minute appointment to find out that everything was just fine? I was clearly not impressed with this OB. In trying to be a compliant patient, I show up for these appointments and also to hear our baby’s heart rate once more, which ticked at 155. I reminded myself that I need to be grateful for these quick uneventful appointments and the good health of our baby.
At 21 weeks, we took our first family photo by the Christmas tree and shared our latest joy on facebook.
At 23 weeks, my fellow pregnant friend and I had our picture taken together, proudly revealing our baby bumps.
At 24 weeks, I am happy to report that the little one has been super active in the womb. A couple weeks ago, I was playing the “push” game with her. Whenever I would feel her kick or punch, I would push back and wait to see if she would react. She often would push back and it would bring the greatest joy to me. Now, I have been pulling up my shirt at home and watching her powerful kicks come to the surface of my abdomen. She has me grinning more often than not. I guess I could also credit her active movements to my husband’s healthy and delicious cooking.
Yesterday, I had my 25 week appointment with an OB I had heard good things about. She lived up to what I had heard. She had a good sense of humor and actually asked me with genuine concern how I was feeling. If I wasn’t set on having the midwife walk with me through the rest of the pregnancy, I would certainly choose this OB. It was the first time anyone measured the fundal height, which was at 25, where it should be. Her heart rate was ranging from 151 to 160. In the middle of the heart rate check, she gave a swift kick or punch at the Doppler wand. The OB said, “I just got kicked!” The babe likes her morning oatmeal.
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