Dear Eowyn, ignore everything people say about your feet, they are beautiful!
Looking to the future.
"I'm not sure about this!"
Sleepy sweet
What does it mean to be induced? For me it meant starting with a drug that started the dilation process. If all went according to schedule, I would have taken that drug for 12 hours, then I would have taken the next drug, which started contractions, for another 6-8 hours, labored for a few hours, and would have had a scheduled baby by Monday afternoon. Of course, that's not what happened.
I took the dilation drug for 8 hours, when the nurse came in at 6:00AM to give me the last dose, she said, “Oh, look, you are in labor! I guess you’ve been uncomfortable tonight. You don’t need this last dose. Do you want an epidural now?”
Me: “Uh, yeah!”
The nurse started the second drug at 6:30AM. The day nurse came in at 7:00AM. She said, “Looks like you were dilated to a 4 (out of 10) when we started this drug, and you’re at a 7 now. I’m just going to turn this off for a while. (The doctor wasn’t due in until 8:00.)
Between 8:00 and 9:00 there was a commotion of doctors and nurses coming in and out, all acting like everything was totally cool. Every three to five minutes they would ask me to shift positions, check the baby’s heart monitor, check the contractions and ask me to shift again.
At 9:00 one of the nurses called another doctor and said, “Um yeah- every time she has a contraction the fetal heartbeat goes down below 80. Yeah- ok.”
My doctor said, “Your baby is healthy right now, and we want to make sure she stays that way. Her cord is smaller than normal, and it is compressed every time you have a contraction, and they are coming faster now. We want to make sure she is healthy when she’s born, so do you want to go ahead and have a c-section?”
It sounded like a question that wasn’t a question at all. “Do you want a healthy baby or do you want to see what happens?” I decided on the healthy baby. D says he thinks we could have waited, and maybe another doctor would have waited, but in the end a healthy baby was my only goal.
Within two minutes there were 8 nurses swarming over me. Telling me what was going to happen, shoving a surgical gown and mask at Daniel, prepping me and wheeling me away.
At 9:11 the doctor said, “Look at the peanut head!” I immediately though of “Mr. Peanut.” Peanut head? ! What does that mean? Is she misshapen? Does she have a monocle? She didn’t cry, but they had warned me she wouldn’t at first, she had had a bowl movement in the womb, it was in the fluid surrounding her, if she breathed in the fluid she could get sick, so they cut her cord long and had the nicu folks clean out her lungs before they got her to cry.
They cleaned her up and gave her to Daniel to bring to me. Of course she was beautiful, and making a face as if to say, “This was not my plan for today!” I don’t think it is anyone’s plan to be pulled out of a comfy place by her face.
I noticed her head full of brown hair, and the fact that unlike many newborns, she wasn’t red or blotchy, she wasn’t wrinkly and didn’t have floppy ears or a cone (or peanut) head. She looked like one of those “newborn” TV babies, which are really closer to 2 or 3 months old. She looked perfect. I did read that c-section babies tend to look better since they don’t go through the trauma of the birth canal, but I had to admit to myself that I had done an excellent job on that baby.
The first night in the hospital she snorted and snored and made all kinds of unusual sounds. She stayed in the room with us. I had to stay 4 days because of the c-section. Although I didn’t want to stay that long, I knew I had to. I could hardly get out of bed, standing was torture and getting back in the bed was nearly as difficult.
The swelling was outrageous, at one point my legs were so swollen that I got a bruise from the pressure cuffs they had on me to reduce swelling. The doctor said it would get worse before it got better. By the time I got home my legs were so swollen I could hardly bend them at the knee.
When we left the hospital, I still looked enormously p regnant. I kept looking at my belly and thinking, “Did they leave somebody in there?”
Things are better now, I can sit and stand relatively easily. I’m still walking slowly, but I’m off the pain medication. I’ve lost half of my pregnancy weight, and hope the other half comes off as easily.
All my energy now goes to figuring out the eating schedule.
A conversation with the nurse before we left the hospital. “She should eat every two hours. She should have on wet diaper for each day she is old and two or more dirty diapers each day.”
Me: “But what if she doesn’t?”
Nurse: “It is recommended that she does.”
Me: “But what if she doesn’t?”
Nurse: “It is recommended that she does.”
Me: “But what should I do if she doesn’t?”
Nurse: “Here’s a chart to keep track of her feeding times, her wets and dirties.”
Me: “Thanks.”
She did not and still does not eat every two hours, she did not have the “right” amount of wets and dirties and by the fourth day at home I was ready to have a melt down. I couldn’t get her stay awake to eat, and when she did it was so painful to me I flinched every time she touched me.
Oh- breast feeding, there is a reason two generations of mothers turned to formula.
We are now on a breast feeding, plus pumping, plus formula supplements routine. It is much less painful, but still very time consuming. We will figure it out eventually.
