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Sunday, January 3, 2010

Elise's Birth Story

It's taken me a while to be able to sit down and write about this and I wish I could blame the delay on being a busy mom of two. Not to say that isn't part of the story because, as many had forewarned us, the transition from one to two children is most definitely the hardest. Okay, I know I have no idea what it's like to have more than two right now, but somehow having "two under two" has more than doubled the amount of patience, energy and flat out perseverance that you need on a daily basis. But I digress. Getting back to the heart of the matter, this was simply a very difficult experience for me to write about. However, with the New Year upon me, I felt that this was one of the most necessary things for me to do, not only in terms of appropriately reflecting on the most major happening from the past year but also so I can continue moving forward in this new chapter of our lives. Ringing in 2010 in a cathartic sense, so to speak.

With that said, I have to dust off the memory banks a bit to first recall exactly how anxious -- or, to put it more accurately, flat out impatient --I was for the arrival of our little girl. My due date of June 6th came and went without any sign of her pending appearance and I was beginning to get more nervous by the second. When would she finally come? Would she be healthy? Would I be able to have a successful v-bac delivery as I had so desperately hoped for? The endless questions rattled through my mind and Brad was truly amazing at keeping me as sane and grounded as possible during this home stretch. I tried everything I could think of to prompt this little girl to evict her cozy home and I won't even go into detail about how ridiculous a nearly 10 month pregnant woman looks hard-charging on an elliptical machine. No need to go down that road! All of my efforts were futile. This little girl had already decided that she was going to come in her own time and, well, the rest of us simply had to be okay with that!

This brings me to the post-near-nervous breakdown moment early on the morning of June 9th at approximately 2:30 am. I awoke from a seemingly life-like dream that I was in labor, which was nothing new at this stage of the pregnancy. But wait, after I finally emerged from the fog of my sleepy haze, I realized that I really was in labor . . . definitely something new this time! Since it was so early in the morning and I knew the day and subsequent days ahead of us would be long, I decided to let at least one of us get some sleep. So while Brad snoozed away I tried to labor as much on my own in the quiet still of the house. I finally woke Brad up around 5:30 a.m. and we gave Marsha the call to come over so she could tend to Joseph when he woke. At this point, we walked out the door know that our family would be forever transformed the next time we walked back in.

We had a nice relaxing drive to the hospital (at least, in between contractions) and we felt like old pros this second time around. This time we knew exactly where we were going, we knew the routine and standard hospital protocol. It's funny how that can give you a false sense of security. We safely arrived to the hospital around 7:30 am and my initial monitoring indicated that I was further progressed than anticipated. I was already 6 cm dilated and moving steadily along which I couldn't have been more pleased to hear. As they wheeled me up to the birthing room, I knew it wouldn't be long before our little girl would be making her entrance. Little did I know . . .

Soon after we got settled, the anesthesiologist came in to give me my epidural -- which I still believe must be the absolute best job in the entire hospital -- and I was almost instantly comfortable and relaxed. The staff was great, my doctor was attentive and everything was going smoothly. The doctor discovered that my progress had stalled a bit due to a "stubborn" bag of water and she proposed to break it. This was fine by me since I wanted to keep things moving along. Brad had decided to run down to the hospital cafeteria to grab some lunch and I made sure to ask the doctor if he still had time to do so with her plan to break my water. Dr. Hubbard reassured me that there was ample time before the baby's arrival and said that it usually takes one hour per cm for dilation. Famous last words. Brad went on his merry way and the doctor proceeded with the water breaking. The doctor was surprised and how quickly and prominently the baby's head came down as a result and then noticed that she was transverse, similar to her brother's position at the time. To help correct her positioning, she had me do some creative positioning, to put it mildly. It was at that moment that the labor experience took a dramatic turn. The baby rotated, her head came down even more and, most importantly, it was all of a sudden time to push. Oh, and did I forget to mention that my epidural decided to stop working and I could feel everything? Um, this isn't what I signed up for! The nurse ran to find Brad and everything was happening in a blur, almost like rapid movie flashes. The anesthesiologist quickly returned to try to give me a fast-acting boost of pain relief, but he could make no guarantees that it would actually work. He said that sometimes in rapidly progressing labor the pain can get ahead of the epidural and the epidural may not ever have the chance to catch back up, which ended up being the case with me. But we won't dwell on that. It was out of my control and I had to do my best to stay focused on the end goal.

Thankfully, Brad returned just in the nick of time. As he walked in with a burger and fries, he was quite surprised at the sight -- or should I say sounds -- of me writhing in pain. The smells were more than I could take and I told him to get rid of the food. Very wisely, he immediately disposed of his lunch and I was relieved to have him by my side for the pushing that was soon to come.

I don't think I pushed for more than 20 minutes, though I can't be certain because everything was such a blur. All I know is that I definitely reached a point of mental breakdown where the thought crossed my mind that a c-section may not be such a bad option. Everyone was trying to be supportive to help me through the pain, but it was Dr. Hubbard who reminded me of what I had set out to accomplish from the beginning. Having a successful v-bac had been my primary goal and my opportunity was finally here. With that, I gave it everything I had and our little girl entered the world at 1:08 p.m. weighing 8 lbs. even and 20 inches long. Much smaller than I had anticipated, though it is important to note that her head was still in the 80th percentile for size. Ouch. She quickly let us know that she was strong and healthy and the moment when they placed her in my arms is one that I will cherish forever. What a different experience from when Joseph was born! I remembered longing to hold him in the operating room, but I could only watch from the table as the doctors worked to finish the surgery. This time, I could hold our little girl immediately and I'll never forget how locked in her gaze was with mine and how grateful at that moment that I was to have her. We named her Elise Katherine (Katherine after my fondly remembered Aunt Kathie) and it seemed to fit her in every way.

After we spent some much cherished time bonding with Elise, I was moved up to my room and this is when things started really taking a turn for the worse. I had experienced quite a bit of tearing and bleeding, all of which are rather fairly standard for the post-birth experience. However, the amount of bleeding and pain didn't seem normal and I was beginning to get concerned that the pain was so intense. When the nurses insisted that I had to get up and moving, I knew I had to try but also knew that my body didn't feel even close to being ready. I made it just a few steps and the world started swimming before it when black. Next thing I knew I was back in bed and I suddenly had a team of nurses working on me. I will never forget the looks on their faces as they worked for hours on end to stop the hemorrhaging. Their looks matched Brad's --grave and silent -- which did not give me any peace of mind. Despite various attempts and treatments, they were unable to stop the bleeding consulted with the resident on call, who we were not overly impressed with. Regardless, she sent me for a CAT scan to ensure that the bleeding wasn't a result of uterine rupture, a rare but serious risk related to v-bacs. Results from the scan were inconclusive and, unfortunately, that left me with a late night phone call from Dr. Hubbard telling me that she was coming back to the hospital to perform surgery on me. Though I was desperate to avoid such measures, she was adamant that this was the only option at this point to stop the bleeding. Needless to say, I was simply devastated and terrified. Brad was too, though he did a good job not showing it. As they wheeled me to the OR, I remember thinking that they really should do something about the harsh lighting and bland landscape of the hallways and ceiling. With nothing but fear and uncertainty racing through my mind, the florescent bulbs and white popcorn ceiling tiles did little to console me. Next thing I knew, I was giving a half-wave to Brad and I was out.

The next five hours were easy on me thanks once again to those wonderful anesthesiologists. However, I can't say the same for Brad. The surgery ended up being much more drawn out and involved than anyone had anticipated. Brad faced those early morning hours of seemingly endless waiting on his own until, thankfully, his mom arrived for additional support. He received several updates from the staff, many of which lead to both relief and confusion at the same time. They included the mention of possible hysterectomy if they couldn't stop the bleeding to confirmation that it wasn't uterine rupture to admittance that they weren't sure of the exact cause of the excessive bleeding. After much work and assistance from a specialist who drove up from Holland at 2 in the morning, they had determined that the source of the bleeding was two-fold -- I had a post-partum condition called uterine atone along with some additional bleeding resulting from one of my more serious lacerations. They were able to patch me up, get my uterus to finally cooperate and, with a transfusion of 5 units of blood later, I was good to go. Or at least I should say I was good as anyone could be in that situation. I woke up tired and thirsty but grateful.

The next several days in the hospital were followed by care from an amazing nursing staff and support from friends and family. Though the early days of recovery were difficult, I received exceptional treatment from doctors and nurses alike who were determined for me to celebrate my 32nd birthday in my own home rather than a hospital bed. I was relieved to be headed home on the evening of Saturday, June 13th, but also uncertain about how I was going to manage in this adjustment with the unexpected events. Brad was a superhero and alleviated my fears and anxieties by scheduling around the clock help for the next two weeks straight. At that moment, I was reminded once again of why I married him.


Though there were many unanswered questions and unresolved feelings related to the post-birth happenings, I can look back and say one thing with certainty . . . I wouldn't have traded Elise's birth experience for the world. Her entrance into this world may have been "fast and furious" as I later coined, but we could have never imagined the place in our hearts that was immediately carved out just for her. With the unexpected turns that we encountered on this day, we were reminded that this is life, plain and simple. We can't control it, we may not understand it, but we must embrace it with every part of our being.