Saturday had been a fairly busy day. I'd been nesting big time. Before I went to bed, I had prepared some meals and frozen them, cleaned house, went grocery shopping, and even created a MySpace page for Wes's book. I worked through my fatigue, because I felt an urgency to get things done before I went to bed.
The reason for this became apparent about an hour after I'd fallen asleep. At 12:30
A.M., I awoke to a huge gush of water. I knew that there was no way it was the result of lack of bladder control. My sheets were soaked, and water was dripping everywhere even after I used the bathroom. My heart started pounding as I realized,
This is it! And then I breathed a huge sigh of relief with my next realization that God had given me the desire of my heart. My water had broken, which let me know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was time to go to the hospital.
I quickly walked back into our bedroom and shook Wes's shoulders slightly. "Honey...honey, wake up."
He groggily opened his eyes and looked up at me. "Huh?"
My tone very serious, I said, "My water broke. It's time." Instantly, Wes's eyes popped open, and he jumped out of bed. Now he was wide awake. Noticing that he was a little frantic, I calmly said, "It's ok. We have time. Call the doctor to make sure she wants us to come to the hospital now."
Of course the doctor's immediate response was to come to the hospital, so we spent the next ten minutes making sure everything we needed was in the car. The suitcases had already been packed and in the trunk for a month. The list of important numbers and things to do when we arrived at the hospital had already been in my car for a week. There were just a few odds and ends that we needed to get from the house before we could leave. I even had the presence of mind to grab a quick snack (a banana and a couple of cheese snacks) and some water before we left. I'd only had an hour of sleep, and I'd worked hard the day before. I knew it was going to be a long day and that I would need some nourishment.
12:51. That's when I felt my first contraction. It was much stronger than any of the ones I'd had before. I'd read that after your water breaks, you would normally go into labor within 12 hours and that sometimes doctors would have to induce labor if contractions didn't start. So I was a little surprised that it only took 21 minutes for me to feel my first contraction, and they continued to intensify and get closer together on the way to the hospital.
The drive to Candler, the hospital in Savannah, took 40 minutes. We didn't drive really fast since we knew that it would probably be a while before the baby would be born. Since it was the wee hours of the morning, hardly anyone was on the road. Wes and I breathed another sigh of relief. Another prayer answered. We were a little concerned that we might be driving to the hospital during rush hour traffic, which is awful in Savannah. During rush hour, it takes at least one hour to get to the hospital, sometimes longer.
By the time we got to the hospital, my contractions were six minutes apart and my pants were soaking wet. (Not my car though, thanks to Joe and Cindy. They'd suggested keeping trash bags in the car in case my water broke, and I'd remembered to do that.) A security guard was at the passenger door before Wes had time to get around to my side of the car, and she helped me into the hospital while Wes parked the car. Thankfully, I'd already pre-admitted myself two months before, so the check-in process didn't take very long. Within about ten minutes, I'd checked in, received a wrist band, and was taken by wheelchair to a LDR (labor/delivery/recovery) room.
Within twenty more minutes, I'd changed into a hospital gown, experienced another contraction, had my cervix checked, and signed all the papers that needed to be signed. The nurse told me that my actual bag of waters had not broken, but that maybe it was a forebag. However, my cervix had dilated between 3 and 4 cm, there was bloody show, and I was having contractions close enough together that they decided to keep me there. Wes gave our labor nurse a copy of my birth plan and then went to work on setting up the room while the nurse called the doctor.
Dr. Morgan, my OBGYN, was actually out of town visiting her family in Australia, and Janice, my midwife, was not on call that night. The doctor on call was Dr. Persad, a man from India who had been practicing medicine since the 1970s. We would learn later what a blessing from God that was, for him to be the doctor delivering my baby.
In my birth plan, I'd requested intermittent monitoring as opposed to continuous monitoring. I knew that the more I was able to move around, the more my labor would progress. Dr. Morgan and Janice didn't have a problem with it, but Dr. Persad was more "traditional" according to the nurse and wouldn't allow it. I didn't fight it though, because I could see his point too. They needed to be able to monitor the baby the whole time so they could pick up on any signs of fetal distress and act accordingly. We did come to a compromise, though, that I could take off all the wires when I needed to use the bathroom and that I could walk around for a few minutes or use the birthing ball before hooking them all up again.
The first part of my labor went very well. Tris, my labor nurse, commented that I was laboring beautifully. My contractions were getting closer together, and Wes was doing a great job of helping me with my breathing exercises. She also commented on my choice of music (classical) and how calm I was compared to other women she had seen in labor. I smiled. Up to that point, things were working out just like I had envisioned.
I held out as long as I could on the epidural. I definitely wanted one, but I knew that my mobility would be very limited after it was administered. When I finally asked for one, my cervix had already dilated to 5 cm. I was halfway there. Tris told me that I was a "strong woman," because I made it farther than 99.9% of women before requesting the epidural. I think I could've held out longer, but I was afraid to let it go too far, for fear that it wouldn't feel like it was working. It was good that I requested it when I did though. By the time the anesthesiologist arrived, I was reaching my threshold for pain.
As expected, the progress of my labor slowed down after the epidural was administered. It was fine with me though, because I felt worlds better. Wes felt better too, because he was finally able to sit down for more than five minutes at a time. The hours passed quickly as we talked about all kinds of things.
At seven o'clock, Tris's shift ended, and a new nurse, Gina, took her place. Sometime around lunchtime, Dr. Persad called to find out how things were going. He was not happy with the answer, and he warned that the epidural would be shut off if things didn't pick up.
My first impression of Dr. Persad was not a good one. He seemed agitated when he walked into the room, and the agitation increased when he realized I was past my due date. "Why didn't Dr. Morgan already induce you? She knows things like this can happen. She won't be back for three weeks!" I glanced over at Wes, unsure of what to say.
Dr. Persad left the room for a few minutes to check on another patient, and I whispered to Wes, "What a jerk." He nodded in agreement.
When Dr. Persad returned, he looked at the monitor, observing my labor pattern. He made a few comments to the nurse in between eating Doritos and sipping on his can of soda. I thought about the fact that the only thing I'd had to eat since I arrived at the hospital was popsicles and chicken broth, and then quickly dismissed the thought as I realized that I didn't want to eat Doritos anyway. The smell was a bit nauseating to me at that moment.
Dr. Persad checked to see how far Isaac had descended, and he was clearly not pleased with what he discovered. He looked at me and said, "You have an hour and a half to push. After that, you know what happens." I took a deep breath and nodded, understanding full well what he meant by that statement. My options were simple. Either push and have the baby naturally, or have a c-section.
Gina had me try different laboring positions, hoping that his body would turn so that his head would face the right way. After about 30 minutes, Dr. Persad came back in the room. Realizing that Isaac wasn't facing in the right position, he reached in and turned him around.
At first, I wasn't pushing hard enough. Due to the effects of the epidural, I wasn't feeling enough pressure to be able to push. We used stirrups, turned off the epidural, and the nurse even gave me pitocin to increase the intensity of my contractions. I was exhausted from lack of sleep and nutrition, and I'd already been in labor for several hours. Finally, I told Wes to tell me something that would make me really angry. I knew that was the only way I would get the motivation to push as hard as was necessary. He had an arsenal of things to remind me of, and for the next hour I pushed as hard as I possibly could.
Still, that wasn't enough. When Dr. Persad came back in the room, Isaac still had not descended far enough into my pelvic cavity. His head was also in the wrong position again.
"How tall are you?" Dr. Persad asked.
"5' 2
1/2"," Wes answered for me.
"He's too big. We're going to have to do a c-section."
I nodded, not surprised in the least. When the doctor had checked me after the first thirty minutes of pushing, I knew that the delivery would end in a c-section. It wasn't that I gave up before I started. I just knew that I was pushing as hard as I possibly could. I had mustered all the strength that was in me.
Dr. Persad put his hand gently on my knee. His eyes full of concern, he said, "This doesn't mean you've failed. Sometimes these things happen."
I nodded as I said, "Whatever it takes."
The next thirty minutes were extremely uncomfortable. As we waited for the OR to be prepped for the emergency c-section, I writhed in pain. With absolutely no pain medication, I was in the middle of some very serious contractions - the most intense part of my labor - and the breathing exercises were having little to no effect at this point.
Finally, the OR was ready, and I was wheeled quickly into the room. Another epidural was administered, and it provided some much needed relief. Wes put the hospital wear over his regular clothes, scrubbed in, and then held my hand as he sat next to me. The screen was put up, and the doctors went to work. I'd educated myself on c-sections beforehand, so I wasn't nervous about the procedure. One thing that did take me by surprise, though, was when the doctors - grown men - started pushing with all their might on my ribs. I wasn't prepared for that. It seemed like they pushed forever, and I silently hoped that they wouldn't break my ribs.
When Isaac was delivered, I head Dr. Persad say, "Oh my God!"
The anesthesiologist looked over the screen and said to me, "What have you been feeding this baby?!"
Another voice said, "It looks like you have a three month old in there!"
And then, at 4:43 P.M., the most beautiful sound was heard...Isaac's first cry. Wes and I looked at each other, and we both had the same reaction. Our eyes welled up with tears, and they flowed freely. I asked Wes if he could see him, and he said he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. At that point, the doctors asked Wes if he wanted to hold him. Soon thereafter, Wes followed one of the nurses to the nursery with Isaac. Before he left, he let me get a quick peek at the baby.
The doctors went to work on putting me back together. I remember telling one of the nurses that I was feeling really weak physically, and throwing up at one point. I had an incredible urge to sleep, but I fought it. I heard one of the doctors comment that there was "a lot of blood," and a few minutes later Wes returned.
I heard Dr. Persad tell him, "I don't normally allow people to come back in here, but I wanted you to see this. We need to do a hysterectomy."
I looked to my left and saw the stricken look on Wes's face. Saying that his look was "stricken" really doesn't do it justice though. There are no words to describe the expression he had on his face. I heard him say, "OK," and then I looked at the wall on my right. At that moment, it occurred to me, I could die here today. Will I close my eyes and open them in heaven? I imagined my son growing up without me, picturing him at different stages in his life. I thought about Wes raising him by himself. Then I looked up at the ceiling and silently prayed, God please help me get through this. Please give me the strength to get through this.
My next conscious thought was when I was being lifted and placed onto a different hospital bed. Before I was wheeled out of the room, Dr. Persad placed his hand on my arm and told me he would talk to me about what happened during the procedure the next day. His eyes were full of grief and compassion. As I was being taken to the recovery room, I had only a vague recollection of what had happened. I remembered hearing the words "a lot of blood" and "hysterectomy," but I was still in denial.
Wes met me in the recovery room, and Isaac was brought in soon afterwards. I remember looking at him in wonder, not really sure what to think about him just yet. Gina, my labor nurse, came in a little later, and she broke the news to me. When she told me, my eyes welled up with tears, and I cried. I cried like I'd never cried before. I don't know how long that moment lasted, but it felt like an eternity.
When I was taken to my postpartum room, there were at least 20 people waiting in the hallway. Most of them were family members, some of them were people from church. The sight of that many people overwhelmed me. I knew they were all there because they love me and were concerned about me, but it was too much to process at that moment. I saw a few family members at a time and did my best to keep my composure. After a little while, I was worn out from visitors, so everyone went home.
Everyone says that women walk through the very shadows of death when they go through childbirth. In talking with the doctors and nurses later, I realized just how close I came to it. When the doctors went to work on putting me back together, my uterus didn't tighten up the way it should. They said it was like "mush." The doctor did everything he could before taking out my uterus. This resulted in a huge amount of blood loss, three pints. Dr. Persad told me that I'm a really strong person, because most people would've gone into shock and ended up in the ICU. When I told him the next day that I was able to get out of bed without feeling lightheaded, he looked at me incredulously. He told me later that what happened to me is very rare. In all the years he'd been practicing medicine, he'd only had that happen once or twice before.
The interesting thing about the whole ordeal was that I'd been concerned before I went into labor that I might not survive it. I'd been praying about my pregnancy all along, but a few weeks before I went into labor, I started praying that Isaac and I would survive the experience. I didn't know why I was doing that. I'd had a healthy pregnancy and no cause for concern, but for whatever reason felt compelled to pray in that way. Also, I had this feeling that Wes would be faced with a difficult decision during my labor/delivery. I didn't know what it would be. I thought it might be that he would have to choose between me and the baby, but I wasn't sure. So I began to pray for him to have clarity of mind during the experience. Now I'm really glad I listened to that prompting.
The other amazing thing is that out of all the doctors who could have operated on me, the nurses told me that Dr. Persad was one of the best surgeons for the job. If I'd been induced on Tuesday as planned, my midwife would have delivered the baby. That might have meant that someone other than Dr. Persad would have operated on me. And as far as my first impression of him? I misjudged him. In the end, his faith and compassion shined through his actions.
After it's all said and done, I'm not angry with God for closing my womb forever. How could I be? I'm alive. And I have a very healthy, beautiful son. I have just what I prayed for, the desire of my heart - a son.
