Warning: This may get a little graphic because, well, it's a birth story. Just don't say that I didn't warn you.
On Wednesday, May 12, I got up and went for my daily walk/jog with Mueller. We probably jogged for 1/2 mile max, but I figured every little bit would help encourage Baby Lamont to head out. While I was getting ready for work, my underwear became soaking wet. While incontinence and discharge are normal during late pregnancy, this was neither of those. Still, I never felt a gush or even a trickle, so I changed, put on a pad, and headed out to work.
I stayed dry and didn't really have any Braxton Hicks contractions so I used the morning at work to tie up some loose ends, just in case the Dr sent us to the hospital that day. A little after noon, I got on the Metro and headed to the Dr. During the trip, my underwear once again got wet. By the time I got to the Dr's office, I was pretty uncomfortable, but still no gush or trickle.
First we had an ultrasound to check Baby L's size and my fluid levels. It was uneventul- the baby measured 6lbs 14oz and fluids looked good. The u/s tech even said that she didn't see a reason for the Dr to send us to the hospital.
A little later we saw the Dr and he expressed his disappointment that I hadn't had the baby yet (we obviously chimed in to agree!), but checked my progress (5cm dilated, 80% effaced) while I told him about the "wetness." I had obviously Googled "How to tell if your water has broken" that morning, and told him that he should be able to look for "fern-like patterns" in the fluid under a microscope. He laughed and complained that the internet has taken all the mystery away as he walked into the other room to look under the microscope. Not 10 second later he said "Come look at your ferns" so Stephen and I went in and sure enough, there were fern-like patterns in the fluid. He said it was time to go to the hospital and I agreed that we wanted to get the baby out before the 13th.
The trip to the hospital was full of calls to our parents and text messages to friends. We made it up to Sibley by 2:15 pm and walked in, smiling, to have a baby.
After we got checked in and into a labor room, we met our nurses and I was connected to a fetal heart monitor, a contraction monitor, and got an IV for fluids and Pitocin, to get things moving.
The on-call Dr came in to check my progress, and asked "Are you sure your water broke?" so I told her the story. The woman proceeded to BREAK MY WATER WITH HER HANDS. Without asking if she could or telling me what she was doing. It was literally the most painful experience I had ever had in my life. I'm still not sure why she did it with her hands when I could see the crochet-needle-type tool across the room. It was terrible. And it was kind of gross. My water had definitely not really broken. (NOTE: We've since talked to a friend who is an OB resident and she explained that there are sometimes a small outer bag of waters so that must be what had broken).
At this point contractions picked up significantly, but our great nurse, Sarah, had had a natural birth two years earlier and encouraged me to labor without meds for as long as possible. She gave me breathing techniques and helped Stephen help me. I'm not going to lie, they were pretty miserable and I really had to focus through them, but once one went away, it was like it had never happened.
I labored for about an hour (so it was like 3:45pm) when the Dr. came in to check my progress. 5cm. No progress. So what does the Dr do? She inflicts THE WORST PAIN I HAVE EVER FELT IN MY LIFE, and then explains that she thinks I have some scar tissue and she was trying to break up. Between contractions. Unmedicated. Seriously painful.
The only good part of that traumatizing experience was that she suggested I get an epidural so she could break up the scar tissue. Getting the epidural was very minorly uncomfortable, and I had to wait through a few contractions, but once it kicked in, I felt great! (pre-Epi picture)
Ironically, this is where things get sketchy in my memory. I continued to have contractions, although I did not feel them, for a while. At some point the Dr came in and wanted to turn up the Pitocin, but the (fabulous) nurse said that they couldn't because of something going on with my numbers. Luckily she talked the Dr. down and allowed me to labor for another 30 minutes. The nurses came back in and informed me that they were going to give me oxygen to help the baby deal with the contractions. About 20 minutes later the nurse came back in and turned off the Pitocin because the baby's heartrate was still dropping during every contraction. We could hear the monitor and at one point it dropped during a contraction, stayed low between the contractions, but finally recovered after the next one (so like 3 minutes). Soon the Dr., who lacked bedside manner or a poker face, was rushing in and telling us that we needed to have a c-section because the baby was in distress. Having read some natural birthing books, I knew that this was a pretty common occurence when fetal monitors are worn. I asked her to leave so Stephen and I could discuss our options, and we decided to wait through two or three more contractions before making a decision. We did and it happened again each time. I was still hesitant, so we asked our great nurse, Sarah, and she said that she did not feel right having me labor any longer and thought we should definitely do it. At some point in here I started crying because I was worried about our baby and Stephen (who was fantastic throughout this entire experience) calmed me down. (It also turns out that the baby's heartrate had been dropped during every one of my contractions during the beginning. Stephen had been able to see it on the monitor but had wisely not said anything to me).
As soon as we consented to the c-section, around 5:45, Stephen was putting on scrubs and they were prepping me. They left him in the labor room and wheeled me into the OR. Stephen joined me by my head above the curtain and the surgery was underway. The worst part was that I was numbed from the neck down and it made me feel like I couldn't breathe or talk. The anethesiologist assured me that I was breathing fine and that feeling was due to my nerves being numbed. But it still was pretty awful because it also made me feel fuzzy during the birth and inroduction to my little boy.
But back to the birth-- Not more than 10 minues into it, at 6:17pm, Stephen "Chase" Lamont, Jr was born. The Dr pulled him out and announced "It's a boy!," but we were so worried and he wasn't crying that it did not register in either of our minds. They quickly suctioned out his mouth and we heard the sweetest cries ever. They showed us our beautiful baby boy, who wasn't purple and slimy but pink and beautiful. The neonatologist and nurses checked him and even in my haze I whispered to Stephen, "What are his Apgars?" Great news- 8 and 9.
Soon Stephen was holding Chase, who was quiet and in awe of the voice he'd been listening to from inside my belly for 9 months. He was beautiful and amazing. I gazed at him while they finished stitching me up, and wheeled us all back to the labor room where we waited for my medicine to wear off. A nurse gave him his first bath, and soon I was able to hold him, which was amazing. Soon we were on our way to the Family Ward and 3 days later, headed home!
In the end, it was not the birth that I had imagined, but the result was the same- Our beautiful baby boy. I would not have done anything differently (except maybe waited until the next day when OUR Dr was the one on call, even though it was the 13th). My recovery has been relatively easy so far (knock on wood) so really there hasn't been a downside. We're so in love with our perfect little boy and would have done anything to get him here safely.
The End.
Scratch that.
The Beginning...
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