The baby came early. Or rather, they took him out early.
Don't get me wrong, baby x is perfect and wonderful, and as it turns our doing much better out than in, but it still makes me sad/mad. I had another month to prepare myself for this. Another month to decide on a name, to complain about heart burn, to read up in how newborns act, and figure out daycare options. I had another month to anticipate this mysterious yet very common thing that was going to change my and Andrew's lives forever.
Long story short, we've been going to the Perinatal office for a few months. They've been screening baby x because he hasn't been growing symmetrically, and it's been slow going, too. Everyone someone comments on my small belly, I have to say "Well, he's on the small side."
Every appointment, they would check amniotic fluid (always fine), movement (always good), "breathing" (the practice movements babies do, always good), and just when I'm feeling like things are going great and the doctor and sonogram tech will say "We're all set, you don't need to come back." But they never did. Instead, we were asked to come back in 3 weeks, and "by the way, we're going to want to deliver your baby by 39 weeks." Then it was, Everything looks good, but you'll have to come back twice a week." Then, "everything looks good but we need to monitor the baby for a while to see if he's good, or we nee ed to deliver today." Finally, it was " everything looks good, but I recommend admitting you and delivering the baby today."
Every damn appointment, we'd go on in a good mood and I'd leave in tears. It was the false sense of hope.
Finally, Friday August 7th, there was no backing out. I'd asked the doctor what my options would be. Or rather what the possible consequences would be if I waited another week or more. This was met with a rather stern look. Basically, he explained it would mean the baby would be more likely to be still born. The blood flow from placenta was pausing these little micro seconds, and the next step after that the blood starts flowing backwards.
I was pissed. Poor Andrew had never seen the full fury of Tina before, but he saw it that day. In the delivery room, after the nurse kindly answered questions and tried to prepare me for what is likely to happen, I went into a rage. If there'd been something to throw out the window, I might have caused real damage. I was being cheated. I'd wasted so much time reading books on natural birth, taken a class in it, read countless blogs about it, and now I didn't get a choice.
My midwife came in a few minutes later, and we discussed the option a for inducement. Three different options, two medicinal, one not. She checked my cervix, which was rock hard. Andrew recalls her "going elbow deep." As any inducement isn't foolproof, there was still the possibility of a c-section. It was now simmering anger that made me say "If I'm going to have a c-section anyway, what's the point of being induced?"
"I know this isn't your first choice," she said. "This sint even my second choice" Did I mention I was pissed off?
The midwife left to give us a moment. Andrew and I discussed our options. When she came back, the midwife said that she thought this baby at this point, shouldn't take the rigors of labor.
She left again to call the surgeon on call. The next thing I knew, the baby's heart monitor slowed down dramatically. Andrew said "wait. In two seonds, there will be a bunch of people on here." A swarm of nurses came in, pulling on scrubs and throwing a set to Andrew. I was given a pair of compression sock things and consulted by an anesthesiologist. "Looks like the baby is making the decision for us," the midwife said.
Less than an hour later, I was being sewn back up. It was so fast.
We were walked to the OR. I was sat on the table, and they wrapped a heated blanket around my shoulders (ORs are cold) when they slipped on the epidural. I lay down on the table, Andrew sat by my head and said nice things. It was weird, knowing all my business was exposed to a room of strangers. Never in the whole of my life (excepting my own birth) have that many strangers seen me naked. It felt like the bottom half of my body was floating. I couldn't feel a thing. It was there i first heard someone use the term IURG. I knew what it meant from my own research, but since no one had told me that's what he had, I thought I was making it up.
They told Andrew he could stand up to see the baby come out. Baby x was hosing everyone down, which is one way to make your mark on the world.
Andrew went over to the little heated bed where they cleaned up the baby and bundled home up. Then brought him over to me, so I could get a little peek. I only got to see him for a couple minutes before they tool him to the NICU.
Then to recovery, then to a "family care" room where I spent the next couple days. Normally, the baby would have been in the room with us, but he needed more care. I couldn't move my legs, much less walk to the NICU until the next morning, so I didn't see baby again until more than 14 hours after he was born.
He's gorgeous, though. And growing quickly. But, if I could do it all again, I still would do it 15 years ago.
