It wasn't a stalk that delivered our little
baby boy, it was an Obstetrician…
To start, I had always had a funny feeling
about the 28th of December, I had told a few people I had dreamt about it. I
wanted the baby to be born in the Chinese year of the Dragon and 8 is a very
lucky number.
On the 28th of December 2012, Michael and I
spent the day much like we had all of the others for the past week that he had
been finished with school. We woke at around 10am, lounged around eating
avocado on toast, reading and joking that we really should get out of our PJs
and do something. At lunchtime we decided to drive to target to get a lamp for
our room, we stopped in at Kelly's an American diner and shared a cheese burger
and seafood plate while we chatted and played games on our phones. We went to
Target for that 'one thing' we needed and bought the lamp... Along with some
other items that we never knew we needed until we saw them on sale (for anyone
who knows us, this would have made you laugh). We went over to Babies R' Us and
wandered around dazed at the plethora of baby items on display and left with
yet another sheet for the bassinet and some liners for the change pad. On our
way home we stopped in at our friends house to water her plants and take in the
mail (while her and her partner soak up the Australian sunshine, they
generously let us borrow their car).
Arriving home I cooked tacos and we spoke
to my family on Skype where I told my Dad I was having some cramps but feeling
good... When I think about the phone call I think I must have sensed something,
I spoke to everyone individually, and my sister in law for almost 40 minutes
about the birth of my Nephew (the most handsome little man you have ever seen!).
I sat back in my chair and looked around,
wow, we had done so much in the apartment that past week, the place was looking
great. I had a batch of 'skinny Mommy' lactation muffins in the freezer, plenty
of frozen food and dry snacks, all of the babies clothes were washed and put
away, hospital bag packed, birth plan complete and I thought - crazy lady - you
are not even 39 weeks (I was 38+5) along. At about 8pm I started having
'cramps' that were about 8 minutes apart so I went into Michaels office, slumped
on the bed we had set up for my Mum (complete with welcome care package) and
said casually "I think I'm in labour" and explained my cramps (extremely sore
lower back, wrapping around my sides and lower stomach which would come and
then go), he asked if I felt pain at the top of my belly, I said no and he said
'ah well then it's not a contraction' and proceeded to explain, with much
conviction, what a contraction actually felt like (...). I went back out to the
lounge and started watching toddlers and tiaras thinking, I know my husband is
a very intelligent man. First of all - he married me :) then there is
everything else... The endless academic and extra curricular achievements that
would take pages to detail… Besides, he is an MBA student at Harvard Business
School. I was bewildered that he had dismissed my claims...! It was almost
midnight when I lost my mucous plug (for those that don't know what that is, I
don't advise googling it, just wait until it's time to know, like, when your
pregnant). I called Michael over who diligently compared it to pictures on
google and then ran into the bedroom, frantically taking clothes from his
drawers and cupboard and putting them in a pile muttering "what else do we
need..." he then looked up at me and said "oh my gosh, wow, I think you're in
labour" **thanks hunny**.
I called the midwife to give her an update
and let her know.
I proceeded to labour in the bath and
lounge using a heat pack, fit ball and the side of the couch whilst Michael got
some much needed sleep. There wasn't 'value' in both of us being awake (sound
advice from an MBA student). At 5am my contractions were around 5min apart and
lasting from 45-60 seconds. I called the midwife for another update and she
advised that once they get to around 3min apart to come down to the hospital. I
called my parents to let them know and to make sure that it was ok for me to
call in the middle of the night if we had news (for anyone who has seen my Dad
when the phone rings at an odd time, you would understand). Michael was up at
about 6am and my confections were getting longer, stronger and closer together.
At 8am I called the midwife again to let her know that they were around 3-4min
apart lasting 60-80 seconds (using a contraction counter app is dangerous, the
timing is to the second that it doesn't quite look like a solid pattern) and
she said to come down and we could see if there was any progress. This time,
Michael went into our room to get the labour bag and was flapping around in a
panic. It was hillarious. We walked to the car and had a contraction in the
lobby, then three in the car whilst we were temporarily dis-orientated (not
lost, we never get lost, sometimes just take the 'other way').
They checked me and I was only 3cm. I
thought that would mean going home although they suspected that my water had
ruptured and a test confirmed this (there was no Hollywood style gush and I
hadn't really noticed, they guessimated it would have happened at around 6am)
so they admitted me... This was stressful because of the increased risk of
infection, most providers prefer to deliver the baby within 24 hours of the
water breaking to minimise the risk of infection. I felt like someone had
started a stopwatch that had been running for 3 hours and I had absolutely no
control over how fast my labour would progress. My birth plan was to have an
active water birth with Michael as my coach (yes he had done plenty of research
and study) and the midwives assisting.
I labored all day in the jacuzzi, on the
ball, walking around etc. I had a progress check at 5pm and was only 4cm (so
dis-heartening, at this point I had been awake for around 31 hours and laboring
for 21).
I had an IV medication in the hope of
getting some rest and continuing on, I slept for two hours and woke up still
feeling exhausted, even more so because of the medication and started to get stressed
and anxious, I was not handling the contractions very well. At
8pm I was checked and was barely 5cm, at this point, we (me, Michael and the
midwife) decided to go ahead with an epidural. Instant relief, you can feel and
slightly lift your hips etc but cannot feel the pain of the contractions. I
slept and at 10pm I was 6-7cm, they checked at midnight and I was still 6-7cm
and we decided to start pitocin. I rationlised this third 'intervention' with
'I’ll be pushing soon'.
At 5am, I was 8cm and had been getting a
fever/temp all night so they had started IV antibiotics as they thought I might
be getting an infection (remember the 24 hour stopwatch?)
Around 10am I was 9.5cm. The baby's head
was low (-1) so looking good but still not ready.
I could eat with the epidural, so now
nearly 26 hours without food and I am so hungry. I have IV fluids which really
helps and means that I don't have to drink. Michael has been talking with me,
making jokes, inspecting every piece of medical equipment in the room (yes
there was a few 'where do they put THAT?!'). He was making me watered down
cranberry juice with heaps of ice chips, (my mouth was so dry), getting the lip
balm, giving me hand massages.
I was extremely happy that I was not feeling
rushed by the staff, the only pressure to get going is coming from me!
My Husband, the nurses and midwives are
amazing!
At 10:30am the midwife came back in and
said we should start pushing, push we did, for just over 1.5hrs. Michael on one
side and the nurse on the other (we all watched snippets of American Pie 2 in
between contractions). This part makes me feel sad writing about, I can barely
see the screen through my tears as I think about it (as I wrote this in draft
in the hospital, I climbed our of my hospital bed, (at 5am) and crawled into
the pull out chair bed that Michael is on and had a good cry, he is the best,
cuddling me as I once again re-lived out loud this part of the experience, he
has patiently listened to it tens of times, and he was there, not once seeming
bored of hearing about it or rushing me. I am blessed to have him).
I tried so, so hard… So hard,
I cannot even explain the effort that I gave to this stage - with the greatest
encouragement from Michael the nurse.
The midwife checked me as I was pushing and
the baby had not moved, she advised that he was not coming vaginally. My
midwife has been midwife for many, many years, delivering hundreds of babies.
Mt Auburn has one of the lowest c-section and highest successful VBAC rates in
the country, they refuse to conduct them without a medically necessary need. I
used this as a solace and rational as I put on a strong face and was introduced
to the OB, saw the anesthesiologist again and signed on the dotted line (yes,
they have you sign a form, dosed up on pain killers, this is America after
all!)
When they all left the room, I broke down,
and sobbed into Michaels chest, this isn't how it was supposed to be… I was
living my ‘worst case scenario’ and that was tough, really tough.
We were prepped and taken into theatre, the
baby was transverse (sideways) and stuck.
Mylo Antonio D'Onofrio announced his
arrival into this world with three big crys at 12:51pm on the 30th of December
2012.
He is the most precious little thing.
*A quick note on the 8's, we figured this out afterwards I *knew* I was
in labour on the 28th at 8pm when my contractions were 8min apart and
Mylo was born weighing 8 pounds and 8 ounces, he is our little good luck charm!
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We are ready!
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| First cuddles with Mum |
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Holding onto Daddy
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Welcome Mylo!
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| Our little family. |
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| The last 'belly pic' - In Labour at 38+5 |
