At my 36 week appointment, I was checked for group B strep. The midwife went ahead and checked my cervix which was still posterior though 50% effaced. I was slightly disappointed that I was not yet dilated. Boring information, right?
While I never had a significant cold or cough with Maria, poor me had
suffered from numerous colds and coughs with this pregnancy. Wah. I was
coughing pretty hard that prior weekend when I worked and felt like I
could have coughed out the baby at times. At least I was over another
bout of pinkeye from the week before.
On Monday morning at my 37 week appointment, the nurse who always checked me in at the office mentioned that she noticed I dropped. Co-workers told me weeks ago that they thought the baby had dropped, but I myself noticed a significant difference in how low the baby's head seemed to be that day and that weekend really. She asked me if I would like the doctor to check my cervix, but I refused and requested it be checked next week. Not wanting to welcome any unnecessary infection, I highly doubted the baby would come soon.
That evening, I received a text message from the Kosydars letting us know that they were back in town. Russ and I happily rejoiced because we were counting on them to care for Maria should I go into labor. Now knowing this, I regretted not having the doctor check my cervix at the office earlier for curiosity's sake.
Early Tuesday morning, I began having yet another spell of coughs. At about two in the morning, I tried hard to cough minimally and directly into the blanket so as not to bother Russ or Maria. I eventually got up and went to the other side of the house to blow my nose then went to the bathroom multiple times, as expected by a pregnant mother. My body just could not decide whether to urinate or have a bowel movement. Perhaps it was the same hour that the contractions began.
By the three o'clock hour however, I realized that the short pains I was experiencing every four to five minutes may be true labor. Because I feared not knowing who was going to deliver me within the WVU group and not wanting to risk having one of the doctors initiate Pitocin, I quietly endured the faint contractions until I knew that my husband's alarm would be going off at four o'clock.
As I was questioning myself, I had gotten online to double check at what point the contractions are actually true labor. When Russ awoke, he found me sitting up on the couch. When I calmly told him my suspicion, he began acting quickly and knew we needed to wake Maria up so she could go to daycare and so we could get ourselves to the hospital. We contacted the Kosydars as we finished packing for the hospital. Kate was soon over to help.
When we arrived at the emergency room, Russ dropped me off at the curb and I walked slowly to the front desk. I told the nurse that I thought I was in labor. She told me there was a wheelchair around the corner. I told her I would wait for my husband, as I leaned against the counter and experienced another contraction. We joked around that at least I was not having a heart attack. We would both be more concerned about getting a cardiac patient into a wheelchair.
The nurse called up to the OB floor. Russ walks in with the duffel bag. Kate was by his side with Maria in her arms. She suggested that she just stay downstairs until daycare opened. I had tears in my eyes as Russ and I kissed Maria goodbye, acknowledging to myself that it was the last time she would have our sole attention as the only child. Maria also had tears in her eyes as she did not understand why her parents were leaving her.
We soon made it up to the OB floor. One of the nurses handed paperwork to me at the nurse's station. I signed my name, glanced at the clock, and marked the date and time as 12/31/2013 at 0555. We asked her who was on call for the WVU group. Stephanie the midwife until 8 o'clock then Dr. Hembree. Russ and I were relieved that one or the other of our two favorites would be the one to deliver our baby.
The nurse directed my husband and I over to triage. She then asked me for a urine sample. I put on a gown then made my way to the restroom. I easily left a clean urine specimen, but felt like I could still urinate a little more. So I did. Or rather, I pushed out my bag of waters. Wow, I thought. I began to calmly pull out a pair of maternity underwear since I knew I would begin leaking soon. Then idiot me thinks again of how pointless it was to do this. I was about to have this baby!
I again felt like I had to push! I must have yelled in some way and had the fleeting gross thought of pushing my baby into the toilet. Russ and the nurse were not happy that I had locked the door. But if you were in a public place and were asked to leave a urine sample, would you not lock the door behind you for some dignity and privacy?
I walked slowly back to the cart and let her know that I passed my bag of waters. When the nurse checked my cervix, she began yelling for help from her fellow nurses to gather supplies needed for delivery, I assume. I asked her how dilated I was. She told me nine and a half centimeters and began pushing the cart down the hall to room 13. The faint contractions quickly intensified. I laid on my side and warned her that I was leaking.
I felt the baby coming so fast now. My repeated prayer, my cry, my mantra was, "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God..." The nurse asked me to just breathe. Doing as told, my mantra was replaced by loud breathing in and out. The nurse was asking where Stephanie was. She must have appeared then disappeared because she did not have her glasses with her the first time. I told the nurse that I had to push. Those few minutes quickly turned into a blur as I trusted the midwife and nurse to cue me as to what to do next.
After two quick pushes, Kateri Day was born at 6:13 AM weighing 6.9 pounds and measuring 19 inches. The delivery happened so fast that Russ and I could barely believe she was in our arms. Russ told me later that he had tears in his eyes, as did I.
Monday, January 6, 2014
Friday, July 12, 2013
A hint of God
Being summer time and a little short-staffed, I took a team of six patients today. I heard an annoying IV beeping down the hall and went in to take care of the problem.
While I was fixing it, the patient asked me if he could eat. I looked up at the white board to see who his nurse was and called her to see if this seemingly starving patient may indeed eat since it sounded as though he just returned from a test. She told me that yes he could and that she was working on getting him a tray at that very moment. I relayed this bit of information to him saying that God answers prayers, washed my hands, and began exiting his room.
The granddaughter dryly said, "I don't think God meddles in our lives."
With a smile, I turned back around to them and coyly responded, "Actually, he probably already does, you just don't realize it."
While I was fixing it, the patient asked me if he could eat. I looked up at the white board to see who his nurse was and called her to see if this seemingly starving patient may indeed eat since it sounded as though he just returned from a test. She told me that yes he could and that she was working on getting him a tray at that very moment. I relayed this bit of information to him saying that God answers prayers, washed my hands, and began exiting his room.
The granddaughter dryly said, "I don't think God meddles in our lives."
With a smile, I turned back around to them and coyly responded, "Actually, he probably already does, you just don't realize it."
Monday, July 1, 2013
Tears
At work yesterday, I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. A priest and nun who I have interacted with a few times in the past stopped me in the hall as I was exiting a patient's room at the hospital. They remember me as the one from Princeton. I told Fr Bill that I heard he had a significant anniversary recently. I sheepishly told them that I hadn't been down to the chapel for Mass on Sundays because we were often short-handed and that I don't feel like I could do that to my staff. Talk of church began naturally.
The nun began rifling through her purse looking for a prayer card she wanted to give to me from Fr Bill's anniversary Mass. I noticed that she was carrying a pyx, or so I thought. I peered into her purse with her and asked if she had any Jesus on her. She indicated that what she had in her hand was actually oil for the Anointing of the Sick. Blessed are those who were anointed, but boo hoo for me who was only wanting some Jesus.
She and Fr Bill asked me what my work schedule was. I told them that I was the weekend charge from Friday to Sunday and the long hours of which I work. Sister asked me to go down with her so I could have some Jesus right then, but I again had to refuse because we didn't even have a secretary. They offered to bring Communion to me next Sunday though. In fact, Sister offered that her own sister distributes Communion and that she could come by on Fridays so that I may have that precious Sacrament. I fought to hold the tears back that were flooding my eyes. I shared that it had been such a long time since I last received Communion. I was overcome with gratitude.
I had very recently been longing for Mass especially Communion, mentioning it as I quietly pray. God heard my simple prayer.
The nun began rifling through her purse looking for a prayer card she wanted to give to me from Fr Bill's anniversary Mass. I noticed that she was carrying a pyx, or so I thought. I peered into her purse with her and asked if she had any Jesus on her. She indicated that what she had in her hand was actually oil for the Anointing of the Sick. Blessed are those who were anointed, but boo hoo for me who was only wanting some Jesus.
She and Fr Bill asked me what my work schedule was. I told them that I was the weekend charge from Friday to Sunday and the long hours of which I work. Sister asked me to go down with her so I could have some Jesus right then, but I again had to refuse because we didn't even have a secretary. They offered to bring Communion to me next Sunday though. In fact, Sister offered that her own sister distributes Communion and that she could come by on Fridays so that I may have that precious Sacrament. I fought to hold the tears back that were flooding my eyes. I shared that it had been such a long time since I last received Communion. I was overcome with gratitude.
I had very recently been longing for Mass especially Communion, mentioning it as I quietly pray. God heard my simple prayer.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
A life post... one year later
A year ago, we had a beautiful two month old baby in our arms. Now, baby number 2 is in the womb. At ten and a half weeks, the midwife wanted me to come in this morning for a fetal heart tone check. Soon enough, I heard the heartbeat for the first time of this miraculous creature in my womb. How can a tiny baby the size of a kumquat have an even tinier heart that beats so fast? I am in awe once more. With the baby forming so quickly inside me, I am again worn to pieces, but can't be grateful enough for another blessing in our lives.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Emergent surgery
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!)
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!)
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...
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