The best thing you have when you go through a hard time is understanding. The worst, is well - the opposite. Not misunderstanding per se, but people just not being able to relate and know what you are going through. My first pregnancy ended with a vaginal delivery, so this time around was a whole new experience. I wasn't prepared for what I would go through and since it was my second baby, I feel like people at the hospital treated me as if I was a pro at getting a baby ripped out of my stomach.
The worst thing people told me was that they just didn't know how I was feeling because they didn't and no one they knew had been through a C-section. They said it like I was the only one in the western states that had gone through this ground-breaking surgical procedure. Really people? It's not that uncommon and I shouldn't be letting you make me feel like less of a women because I didn't have her come through vagina land.
Insert middle of the blog disclaimer here: If you are family or may have made one of these comments to me, please don't take any of this personal. Okay, back to the story...
The first day I looked through emails and facebook, I had one message that was actually someone saying "So sorry you had to have a C-section"! Really? What about - Congrats you had a baby? Or even, Congrats you had a HEALTHY baby?! I'm not sorry that they performed the surgery to protect me and my baby, so why are you?
The other comment that drilled at me was "We just don't understand how you are feeling because you are the only one that didn't deliver vaginally, no one else in the family has ever gone through this". Although I know no one meant to intentionally hurt me, these kinds of comments are hard to deal with, especially when you are already emotional and sensitive. The books aren't any better. They almost make you feel like you should be depressed. Sure, I went through I my uncontrollable periods of sobbing while locked in my bathroom with company downstairs, but jeez... your body is going through some crazy things! Not to mention, sleep deprivation.
I read one place that baby blues and postpartum are more common in women who have C-sections because they feel like less of a women for not having the baby through vagina land. As far as I'm concerned, I have fought both battles. I have been through the treacherous and trying war of vagina land and I have had the surgery of all surgeries where the movie Alien is reenacted and you are the star, having the little being ripped from you. Personally, I don't feel like any less off a women. I give kudos to all women out there for however long you carry a little creature inside you and for however you bring it into this world. For it's only the beginning of this life altering and changing experience and you are a hero no matter what to that little creature for bringing it into this world.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Pooping can be worse than giving birth
Nothing is easy about giving birth and that definitely held true when it came to this birth saga. Please allow me to give a brief disclaimer about this posting - it's about poop. It's not sugar-coated and the best way to describe it is that it's my "Jenny McCarthy" blog. If you have ever read any of her books, you will already know what I'm getting at. If you haven't, let me explain - she tells it how it is. This is my blog about my life. It's meant to inform, entertain and hopefully at times you will be able to relate. I love when people have told me that they experienced the same thing or that they went through it too. As women, we get to share that magical time called childbirth and anyone who has knows that pooping afterward can be... well, Hell.
It's a good thing they don't make you stay in the hospital until you pass that first bowel after baby, because I probably wouldn't have left until 2011. I already have a problem with "poo-ing in public". If we are out of town for a few days, most likely I wont poo until we get home. And then, as soon as we walk in the front door it's like magic. I can go straight to the bathroom and go with no problems at all. Whether you have a vaginal birth or C-section, that first bowel is well, Hell.
With a C-section it sucks just a little more because you can't use your muscles in your abdomen to push. Here I was home from the hospital, loaded up on colate and plum juice and having no luck. Everyday it was the same thing - I would sit there for 20 minutes in pain, praying for poo to just come out and then...nothin. I would take little walks up the street and still, nothin. It was getting worse and I was getting cranky (to say the least). I had the baby on Sunday and that morning was probably the last time I pooped. I came home from the hospital Wednesday and on Friday, still nothin. The next day (Saturday, October 23rd) was my birthday. I had at least 3 offers from people to bring me cake and although I know they meant well, the offers were just making me more cranky. NO, I don't want cake!!! I want to poop! All I want for my stinkin birthday is to poop! Was that too much to ask?
Finally, it was Saturday, my birthday. Again, I woke up with only one thing on my mind, pooping. Finally, days of praying to poop brought me to the glorified moment of sitting on the porcelain throne and although painful, thank the good Lord, I got my birthday present. Ladies, why is it that passing that first bowel feels worse than the baby?!
It's a good thing they don't make you stay in the hospital until you pass that first bowel after baby, because I probably wouldn't have left until 2011. I already have a problem with "poo-ing in public". If we are out of town for a few days, most likely I wont poo until we get home. And then, as soon as we walk in the front door it's like magic. I can go straight to the bathroom and go with no problems at all. Whether you have a vaginal birth or C-section, that first bowel is well, Hell.
With a C-section it sucks just a little more because you can't use your muscles in your abdomen to push. Here I was home from the hospital, loaded up on colate and plum juice and having no luck. Everyday it was the same thing - I would sit there for 20 minutes in pain, praying for poo to just come out and then...nothin. I would take little walks up the street and still, nothin. It was getting worse and I was getting cranky (to say the least). I had the baby on Sunday and that morning was probably the last time I pooped. I came home from the hospital Wednesday and on Friday, still nothin. The next day (Saturday, October 23rd) was my birthday. I had at least 3 offers from people to bring me cake and although I know they meant well, the offers were just making me more cranky. NO, I don't want cake!!! I want to poop! All I want for my stinkin birthday is to poop! Was that too much to ask?
Finally, it was Saturday, my birthday. Again, I woke up with only one thing on my mind, pooping. Finally, days of praying to poop brought me to the glorified moment of sitting on the porcelain throne and although painful, thank the good Lord, I got my birthday present. Ladies, why is it that passing that first bowel feels worse than the baby?!
Friday, November 5, 2010
October 21st, 2010 - I have an infection where?!
It was so nice to be at our home with our new baby and settling into the next chapter of our lives. That first night was pretty typical for having a new baby. We were up every couple hours to feed and change her and she was eating and pooping like a pro. The next morning (which means early afternoon when you are on newborn time) we took turns showering. This is when the fun of the saga continued.
I was washing off and noticed some pain in my under-arm, right armpit to be exact. I finished up and got out to dry off. I realized that I had a large lump in my armpit and that was what was hurting so bad. I called Steve up and showed it to him. He thought it was probably just a swollen lymph node from my body trying to fight off everything, but recommended I send the doctor a message just to be sure. We are extremely blessed to have a very close relationship with our family doctor, who lives a couple houses up from us. So, I sent him a text asking if it's normal. He responded pretty quick with "No, not normal. Stop down to see you soon".
When he came over to check it out, it wasn't news that made me happy. I must have had an open pore from shaving within days of going into the hospital and it became the perfect entry for a staph infection. Thanks Salem Hospital. To add to an already (insert sarcasm here) "fun" week, now I had a staph infection. The doctor put me on some heavy antibiotics to hopefully kick it out of my body before it got worse. I thought this would all be resolved pretty quick, but that's just not how this particular saga was going.
Steve had picked up the medication that same day and I got started on it that night. By morning I was a couple doses in, but now I had a whole new thing to add to my plate. A rash that was starting to spread all over my torso and back. Lovely. As if my feet and ankles weren't swollen enough, now I get to deal with an uncomfortable rash to accent the rest of me.
We looked up the medicine on Steve's new (early Christmas present) I-pad (thanks Mom and Dad Chancellor) and found it is a sulfa drug, which I am allergic to. Lovely. Now time to get back on the phone with the doctor and get my next step, which was to stop the medicine obviously, wait 24 hours and then get started on some new antibiotics. Steve was headed back to the pharmacy in hopes of this being the end to the additional ailments and to be getting to the "and They Lived Happily Ever After" part of the story. I was starting to wonder when exactly that was gonna be.
I was washing off and noticed some pain in my under-arm, right armpit to be exact. I finished up and got out to dry off. I realized that I had a large lump in my armpit and that was what was hurting so bad. I called Steve up and showed it to him. He thought it was probably just a swollen lymph node from my body trying to fight off everything, but recommended I send the doctor a message just to be sure. We are extremely blessed to have a very close relationship with our family doctor, who lives a couple houses up from us. So, I sent him a text asking if it's normal. He responded pretty quick with "No, not normal. Stop down to see you soon".
When he came over to check it out, it wasn't news that made me happy. I must have had an open pore from shaving within days of going into the hospital and it became the perfect entry for a staph infection. Thanks Salem Hospital. To add to an already (insert sarcasm here) "fun" week, now I had a staph infection. The doctor put me on some heavy antibiotics to hopefully kick it out of my body before it got worse. I thought this would all be resolved pretty quick, but that's just not how this particular saga was going.
Steve had picked up the medication that same day and I got started on it that night. By morning I was a couple doses in, but now I had a whole new thing to add to my plate. A rash that was starting to spread all over my torso and back. Lovely. As if my feet and ankles weren't swollen enough, now I get to deal with an uncomfortable rash to accent the rest of me.
We looked up the medicine on Steve's new (early Christmas present) I-pad (thanks Mom and Dad Chancellor) and found it is a sulfa drug, which I am allergic to. Lovely. Now time to get back on the phone with the doctor and get my next step, which was to stop the medicine obviously, wait 24 hours and then get started on some new antibiotics. Steve was headed back to the pharmacy in hopes of this being the end to the additional ailments and to be getting to the "and They Lived Happily Ever After" part of the story. I was starting to wonder when exactly that was gonna be.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Breaking out of Prison, I mean the hospital.
It was a very comforting feeling to move upstairs to the fourth floor of the Birthing Center. I could finally move my toes, we were out of recovery, and we had our baby by our side. God is so good. That night's sleep however, was not so good. The baby was already doing great and working on eating. The nurse brought Steve a strange turkey boxed meal and I got ice chips. I know, lucky me. They had to make sure I wasn't going to throw up from the meds and fun stuff they had been pumping into my body.
That first night, or I should say - the remaining hours that were left of those wee morning hours were horrible trying to sleep. They put these strange wraps on your legs that fill up and then deflate, over and over again, to prevent blood clots in your legs. So, between the noise of those and the pressure on my legs and the itching all over my body from the epidural wearing off made sleeping virtually impossible.
The nurse came in about 3 or 4am to check vitals and give me pain meds. I wanted something for the itching too, so on top of the buffet of meds I already had, she gave me oxycodone and injected benadryl into the IV in my hand. I hate pain meds and I hate how groggy cold meds make you. I felt like one of the addicts on Intervention that nods off while being interviewed. I couldn't keep my head up, let alone eyes open. I got some much needed sleep for a couple hours after that.
Later that morning, (now Monday, October 18th), I finally ate some real food. I was starting to feel slightly more human once again. Over the course of the next few days, family and friends visited. Sometimes it was too much for one day and I would break down crying at the end of it, but it was all leading to that final day. The day of the big prison break, going home from the hospital that is.
Since Brooklyn was considered "preemie" she had to pass a car seat tolerance test. So, on Tuesday we had to bring in her seat and get her all strapped in to sit in the nursery for an hour to be monitored. They do this to make sure they get enough oxygen sitting in the seat. Fortunately, she passed and it took us one step closer. They encouraged me to get out in the halls and try walking, which I did and it made me that much more stir crazy to get out of there. Between the visitors wanting to see us and the baby and the doctors and nurses constantly checking in on us, we didn't have much time to just enjoy our new family member.
Finally, Wednesday (October 19th) arrived. We had our last meal and geared up to break free. We crossed all our "t's" and dotted our last "i" and were finally set free. Although it felt like it took me an hour to walk out to the truck, that fresh air never smelled so good! Getting into the truck felt like another hour and the ride home was miserable. You don't realize how much you use your core muscles until you tense accidentally at ever little bump you encounter in the road.
Finally, home sweet home. We had the rest of the day to enjoy having our new little one at home to get settled, until the next day - when I would get tested with even more things to add to my list of ailments and this dramatic adventure of bringing little Brooklyn into this world.
That first night, or I should say - the remaining hours that were left of those wee morning hours were horrible trying to sleep. They put these strange wraps on your legs that fill up and then deflate, over and over again, to prevent blood clots in your legs. So, between the noise of those and the pressure on my legs and the itching all over my body from the epidural wearing off made sleeping virtually impossible.
The nurse came in about 3 or 4am to check vitals and give me pain meds. I wanted something for the itching too, so on top of the buffet of meds I already had, she gave me oxycodone and injected benadryl into the IV in my hand. I hate pain meds and I hate how groggy cold meds make you. I felt like one of the addicts on Intervention that nods off while being interviewed. I couldn't keep my head up, let alone eyes open. I got some much needed sleep for a couple hours after that.
Later that morning, (now Monday, October 18th), I finally ate some real food. I was starting to feel slightly more human once again. Over the course of the next few days, family and friends visited. Sometimes it was too much for one day and I would break down crying at the end of it, but it was all leading to that final day. The day of the big prison break, going home from the hospital that is.
Since Brooklyn was considered "preemie" she had to pass a car seat tolerance test. So, on Tuesday we had to bring in her seat and get her all strapped in to sit in the nursery for an hour to be monitored. They do this to make sure they get enough oxygen sitting in the seat. Fortunately, she passed and it took us one step closer. They encouraged me to get out in the halls and try walking, which I did and it made me that much more stir crazy to get out of there. Between the visitors wanting to see us and the baby and the doctors and nurses constantly checking in on us, we didn't have much time to just enjoy our new family member.
Finally, Wednesday (October 19th) arrived. We had our last meal and geared up to break free. We crossed all our "t's" and dotted our last "i" and were finally set free. Although it felt like it took me an hour to walk out to the truck, that fresh air never smelled so good! Getting into the truck felt like another hour and the ride home was miserable. You don't realize how much you use your core muscles until you tense accidentally at ever little bump you encounter in the road.
Finally, home sweet home. We had the rest of the day to enjoy having our new little one at home to get settled, until the next day - when I would get tested with even more things to add to my list of ailments and this dramatic adventure of bringing little Brooklyn into this world.
October 17th, 2010 - The Birth of Brooklyn Grace
The prep time for the surgery was only about 15 minutes, but without Steve, my rock and comfort by my side, it felt like forever. My sister and Mom were able to get there right as I was being taken in and had just enough time to give me there love and let me know they were there. I was wheeled into the surgery room where they would quickly prep me and deliver baby Brooklyn. I can't remember one thing about the room other than the voices of the many staff, the curtain that would block me from the delivery, and eventually Steve and our new baby.
My vision was still blurred and possibly being caused by anxiety that was getting ready to launch a major headache. The anesthesiologist sat above my head and explained to process they would go through to prepare me and eventually deliver the baby. First my epidural and then the staff role call. There were about 6-7 doctors and nurses preparing and helping. The anesthesiologist asked me right before surgery if this baby was going to have a lot of hair? I chuckled and said "No"! I honestly thought that with parents who were born with nothing but a little blond fuzz would crate a baby with the same. He liked that and said that's his favorite kind of baby, since he too had no hair, he explained as he rubbed his bald head. Finally, Steve was brought to my side. I was so scared, but he took my hand and reassured me everything was going to be okay. They were all moving so fast around me, but I tried to focus on him and block everything else out.
It was a weird and uncomfortable feeling to have someone cutting into you and pulling and stretching areas of your stomach that were not meant to be moved in such ways. I continued to focus on Steve as he talked to me and watched me wince and cringe with the tugging of my body.
Finally, the doctor announced, "This baby has a lot of hair"! One final tug and then they brought her up by my head. She was absolutely beautiful. The tears streamed down our proud faces as we finally were introduced to our Brooklyn Grace. They had to give her a couple puffs of air to get her breathing going, but other than that she was a healthy 6lb, 2oz baby girl that was 18" long (or short I should say!). Steve was able to watch as they cleaned her up and got her stats while they stapled and stitched and put me back together.
Once done, we were able to move into the recovery room and start enjoying the new life that was just put into our lives.
Finally, things were starting to get to a controlled comfortable point. For now...
My vision was still blurred and possibly being caused by anxiety that was getting ready to launch a major headache. The anesthesiologist sat above my head and explained to process they would go through to prepare me and eventually deliver the baby. First my epidural and then the staff role call. There were about 6-7 doctors and nurses preparing and helping. The anesthesiologist asked me right before surgery if this baby was going to have a lot of hair? I chuckled and said "No"! I honestly thought that with parents who were born with nothing but a little blond fuzz would crate a baby with the same. He liked that and said that's his favorite kind of baby, since he too had no hair, he explained as he rubbed his bald head. Finally, Steve was brought to my side. I was so scared, but he took my hand and reassured me everything was going to be okay. They were all moving so fast around me, but I tried to focus on him and block everything else out.
It was a weird and uncomfortable feeling to have someone cutting into you and pulling and stretching areas of your stomach that were not meant to be moved in such ways. I continued to focus on Steve as he talked to me and watched me wince and cringe with the tugging of my body.
Finally, the doctor announced, "This baby has a lot of hair"! One final tug and then they brought her up by my head. She was absolutely beautiful. The tears streamed down our proud faces as we finally were introduced to our Brooklyn Grace. They had to give her a couple puffs of air to get her breathing going, but other than that she was a healthy 6lb, 2oz baby girl that was 18" long (or short I should say!). Steve was able to watch as they cleaned her up and got her stats while they stapled and stitched and put me back together.
Once done, we were able to move into the recovery room and start enjoying the new life that was just put into our lives.
Finally, things were starting to get to a controlled comfortable point. For now...
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
October 17th, 2010 - Brooklyn's Arrival part 2
I wasn't sure of what was gushing out of me because I was wearing black pants and we have black seats in our truck, which is probably a VERY good thing. Steve was pretty fast grabbing our bag inside, especially since the bag wasn't exactly packed. I had stuff laid out, but just not exactly ready to grab and run. Imay felt silly having a packed suitcase ready to go a month in advance, but it would have been worth it. He came back out and helped me back into the truck. I remember being so scared and fearing the worst that I hesitated to go. What if I lost my baby? We were so close to having her, how could all that be taken away from us?
The trip to the hospital was fast. I'm not exactly sure how fast he went on the bridge, but thankfully God cleared the roads in front of us. We arrived at the Emergency room around 9pm. Unfortunately, the Birthing Center was already closed. So, we would have to check in through the ER and they would take us over. Steve ran in to get help while I continued to cry and pray. He came out minutes later with a nurse and wheelchair. I'll never forget being pushed through the ER waiting room thinking, "Oh Lord, here is this big pregnant women in a wheelchair crying with blood running off her leg". The people watched as they rushed me into the back. They started with the questions - how far along, contractions, when everything started, etc. I asked her why I could be bleeding and one reason she said was it could just be some bloody show from passing my mucus plug. Although, I knew it was so much more, it was a good way to keep me calm I guess. They were pretty fast to gather information and then take me over to triage in the Birthing Center.
That walk was horrible. Not that I walked, they pushed me in the wheelchair, but it seemed like forever. The sky bridges, the halls, the elevators, finally making it to triage. They wanted me in a gown and on a table. Steve went in the bathroom with me and helped me get my soiled pants off. I couldn't look down in fear of freaking out more from what I would see. I couldn't help it though as we walked out and saw the pools of blood I was leaving beneath me.
They got me on the table and strapped the monitors to me to attempt to find out what was going on. Finally, I heard the sound that gave me a little comfort. It was the sound of her heartbeat. It sounded strong and seemed to echo through my ears. It gave me hope, but the night was far from over. We spent little time in triage where they determined I obviously needed to be admitted to a room. Before moving me they checked my progression to see how dilated I was. According to the nurse, I was at close to a 2, but had no softening in my cervix. Time for another move.
It was probably nearing about 10pm when they got me into the room to monitor further. My back pain was excruciating and my contractions were like nothing I had ever experienced (even having already had a baby before). Steve was frantically on the phone trying to get our families and doctor contacted. At this point, we weren't sure when we were going to be having the baby, but we knew she was coming. My sister was en route from Redmond and the rest of our family was on stand-by. I was disappointed when Dr. West entered our room. Not because I didn't like him, but I didn't know him. I wanted to see my doctor, Dr. Frank.
He explained that I was being monitored to see how I would progress. If my body would progress then I could have a normal vaginal delivery. We had to wait and see what the bleeding was going to do or continue to do.
The nurse got a heat pack for my back and I moved to my side to see if that would ease some of the pain. My contractions were lasting for 10 minutes with 20 second breaks in between. Yes, 10 minutes long with a 20 second break, that is no exaggeration. The nurse appeared stumped and knew I was in pain. I had been in that room basically starting labor for almost an hour. She left the room to report to the doctor on my pain and strange contractions.
Dr. West returned to check my progress, not looking like he was going to deliver any good news anytime soon. He reported that I had no change in dilating and the bleeding was clearly not letting up. Although, a c-section was not the way we wanted our baby to enter the world, we had no time. If I lost anymore blood or fluid me or the baby could end up in distress so we had to move quick. An emergency c-section was at this point, the only option to consider.
I stared at Steve, with tears streaming, we knew that we didn't have an option. We wanted our baby to be healthy and if this was our best option or only option, we knew we had to do it. I responded to the doctor that we knew we had to do it, but I could barely see him. My vision was so blurry and it was starting to scare me. He explained how this was going to work and that we would be moving immediately to get started. Steve was getting our parents on the phone to let them know I would be going into surgery. The nurse was trying to get me to sign paperwork, but with my blurred vision, I couldn't see it. I scribbled in the direction she pointed on the paper.
Everything was moving so fast. It had only been a couple hours since my water even broke. It was so hard to gather my thoughts as to what was happening. The worst part now was that I had to go in alone to be prepped and then Steve would be brought in. He kissed me and we told each other we loved each other and then, without him by my side, they wheeled me out of the room.
The trip to the hospital was fast. I'm not exactly sure how fast he went on the bridge, but thankfully God cleared the roads in front of us. We arrived at the Emergency room around 9pm. Unfortunately, the Birthing Center was already closed. So, we would have to check in through the ER and they would take us over. Steve ran in to get help while I continued to cry and pray. He came out minutes later with a nurse and wheelchair. I'll never forget being pushed through the ER waiting room thinking, "Oh Lord, here is this big pregnant women in a wheelchair crying with blood running off her leg". The people watched as they rushed me into the back. They started with the questions - how far along, contractions, when everything started, etc. I asked her why I could be bleeding and one reason she said was it could just be some bloody show from passing my mucus plug. Although, I knew it was so much more, it was a good way to keep me calm I guess. They were pretty fast to gather information and then take me over to triage in the Birthing Center.
That walk was horrible. Not that I walked, they pushed me in the wheelchair, but it seemed like forever. The sky bridges, the halls, the elevators, finally making it to triage. They wanted me in a gown and on a table. Steve went in the bathroom with me and helped me get my soiled pants off. I couldn't look down in fear of freaking out more from what I would see. I couldn't help it though as we walked out and saw the pools of blood I was leaving beneath me.
They got me on the table and strapped the monitors to me to attempt to find out what was going on. Finally, I heard the sound that gave me a little comfort. It was the sound of her heartbeat. It sounded strong and seemed to echo through my ears. It gave me hope, but the night was far from over. We spent little time in triage where they determined I obviously needed to be admitted to a room. Before moving me they checked my progression to see how dilated I was. According to the nurse, I was at close to a 2, but had no softening in my cervix. Time for another move.
It was probably nearing about 10pm when they got me into the room to monitor further. My back pain was excruciating and my contractions were like nothing I had ever experienced (even having already had a baby before). Steve was frantically on the phone trying to get our families and doctor contacted. At this point, we weren't sure when we were going to be having the baby, but we knew she was coming. My sister was en route from Redmond and the rest of our family was on stand-by. I was disappointed when Dr. West entered our room. Not because I didn't like him, but I didn't know him. I wanted to see my doctor, Dr. Frank.
He explained that I was being monitored to see how I would progress. If my body would progress then I could have a normal vaginal delivery. We had to wait and see what the bleeding was going to do or continue to do.
The nurse got a heat pack for my back and I moved to my side to see if that would ease some of the pain. My contractions were lasting for 10 minutes with 20 second breaks in between. Yes, 10 minutes long with a 20 second break, that is no exaggeration. The nurse appeared stumped and knew I was in pain. I had been in that room basically starting labor for almost an hour. She left the room to report to the doctor on my pain and strange contractions.
Dr. West returned to check my progress, not looking like he was going to deliver any good news anytime soon. He reported that I had no change in dilating and the bleeding was clearly not letting up. Although, a c-section was not the way we wanted our baby to enter the world, we had no time. If I lost anymore blood or fluid me or the baby could end up in distress so we had to move quick. An emergency c-section was at this point, the only option to consider.
I stared at Steve, with tears streaming, we knew that we didn't have an option. We wanted our baby to be healthy and if this was our best option or only option, we knew we had to do it. I responded to the doctor that we knew we had to do it, but I could barely see him. My vision was so blurry and it was starting to scare me. He explained how this was going to work and that we would be moving immediately to get started. Steve was getting our parents on the phone to let them know I would be going into surgery. The nurse was trying to get me to sign paperwork, but with my blurred vision, I couldn't see it. I scribbled in the direction she pointed on the paper.
Everything was moving so fast. It had only been a couple hours since my water even broke. It was so hard to gather my thoughts as to what was happening. The worst part now was that I had to go in alone to be prepped and then Steve would be brought in. He kissed me and we told each other we loved each other and then, without him by my side, they wheeled me out of the room.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
October 17th, 2010 - the arrival of Brooklyn Grace, part 1
On the morning of Sunday, October 17th, 2010, I was happy that my wonderful husband Steve, headed up to church to set up for the early service at church so I could sleep a little more. It was a relaxing morning with Marley at the house before we headed up for the next service. After a great morning at church we enjoyed a nice lunch at our favorite West Salem lunch spot, Great Harvest. Sundays have been pretty busy for us because Steve has been playing for a team in the Courthouse basketball league. We rushed to his game after lunch where I visited with friends while watching him play and discussed how I was started to feel so ready to have this little baby... little did I know.
After the game, we headed home so Steve could get cleaned up and then headed to our small group bible study at 5:30. During our group time, I started having a few contractions (not uncommon for me to have on any given night lately), but also some low dull back pain (which was new). I was uncomfortable, to say the least. It was nearing 7:30 and our time was wrapping up, which was good, because by this time I was so uncomfortable I was now kneeling behind my chair trying to find a comfortable position for my back pain. We were ending in prayer and it was asked if there were any prayer requests. Steve immediately pointed to me (obviously uncomfortable) so I added - yes, lets please have this baby soon and be more comfortable... little did I know.
It was nearing 8pm and we knew we should get something to eat. Although, I wasn't all that hungry, a cup of soup sounded good. So, out we went in search of soup. We first went to Best Little Roadhouse where Steve placed an order to go for him and then headed a few blocks away to Konditorei for soup. They just so happened to just have thrown out all of their soup... I wasn't meant to eat (and that's okay!) We headed back to pick up Steve's food and I waited in the truck. While there my mind was bouncing around thoughts of having the baby and when it would be. I was trying to get my mind off the few contractions I was experiencing (which were very mild and nothing I would think twice about) and continuing back pain. Steve returned after getting his meal and we began to head home. We were just approaching the end of the parking lot to pull out when I had a huge gush of fluid rush out of me. It was 8:35pm.
Now, I'm not one to swear and when I remember the event, my recollection is slightly different then Steve's. I remember saying "OH CRAP, my water just broke". His version - "OH SH**, my water just broke". Either way, we were both surprised and stared at each other. After convincing him I wasn't kidding, we gathered our billions of racing thoughts and started to figure out what we needed to do. I wish I could go back in time and take a picture of the looks on our faces when we had just experienced that.
He immediately started driving to hospital as the gushes continued coming out of me and I called my sister (what's a girl to do? Phone a friend. Or in this case, a sister). She explained we had time to go home first (as contractions hadn't really started) to get our bag and then head down to the hospital. I was convinced that would be fine, but Steve wasn't. He didn't like it and wanted to stay there (now in the parking lot of the Birthing Center), but I convinced him it would be fine... little did I know.
As we pulled into our driveway, we got our game plan for what we needed to grab and get taken care of in a short matter of time and then as if to say "Break", we emerged from the truck. I took about two steps in the driveway and felt a strange warm trickle down my leg. Looking down, I expected to see water, but what I saw changed the entire night dramatically. I had three lines of blood flowing down my leg, I gasped (which alerted Steve) and I froze. He told me to get back in the truck and he ran into the house.
Standing there in my driveway, staring at the blood coming down my leg, I couldn't move. All I could do is begin to pray out loud. What scared me the most was that my contracted stomach had just gone completely soft and all I could think was what were all those gushes? Was it my water breaking or was it all blood? I stood parallized, praying and crying that my baby would be okay.
After the game, we headed home so Steve could get cleaned up and then headed to our small group bible study at 5:30. During our group time, I started having a few contractions (not uncommon for me to have on any given night lately), but also some low dull back pain (which was new). I was uncomfortable, to say the least. It was nearing 7:30 and our time was wrapping up, which was good, because by this time I was so uncomfortable I was now kneeling behind my chair trying to find a comfortable position for my back pain. We were ending in prayer and it was asked if there were any prayer requests. Steve immediately pointed to me (obviously uncomfortable) so I added - yes, lets please have this baby soon and be more comfortable... little did I know.
It was nearing 8pm and we knew we should get something to eat. Although, I wasn't all that hungry, a cup of soup sounded good. So, out we went in search of soup. We first went to Best Little Roadhouse where Steve placed an order to go for him and then headed a few blocks away to Konditorei for soup. They just so happened to just have thrown out all of their soup... I wasn't meant to eat (and that's okay!) We headed back to pick up Steve's food and I waited in the truck. While there my mind was bouncing around thoughts of having the baby and when it would be. I was trying to get my mind off the few contractions I was experiencing (which were very mild and nothing I would think twice about) and continuing back pain. Steve returned after getting his meal and we began to head home. We were just approaching the end of the parking lot to pull out when I had a huge gush of fluid rush out of me. It was 8:35pm.
Now, I'm not one to swear and when I remember the event, my recollection is slightly different then Steve's. I remember saying "OH CRAP, my water just broke". His version - "OH SH**, my water just broke". Either way, we were both surprised and stared at each other. After convincing him I wasn't kidding, we gathered our billions of racing thoughts and started to figure out what we needed to do. I wish I could go back in time and take a picture of the looks on our faces when we had just experienced that.
He immediately started driving to hospital as the gushes continued coming out of me and I called my sister (what's a girl to do? Phone a friend. Or in this case, a sister). She explained we had time to go home first (as contractions hadn't really started) to get our bag and then head down to the hospital. I was convinced that would be fine, but Steve wasn't. He didn't like it and wanted to stay there (now in the parking lot of the Birthing Center), but I convinced him it would be fine... little did I know.
As we pulled into our driveway, we got our game plan for what we needed to grab and get taken care of in a short matter of time and then as if to say "Break", we emerged from the truck. I took about two steps in the driveway and felt a strange warm trickle down my leg. Looking down, I expected to see water, but what I saw changed the entire night dramatically. I had three lines of blood flowing down my leg, I gasped (which alerted Steve) and I froze. He told me to get back in the truck and he ran into the house.
Standing there in my driveway, staring at the blood coming down my leg, I couldn't move. All I could do is begin to pray out loud. What scared me the most was that my contracted stomach had just gone completely soft and all I could think was what were all those gushes? Was it my water breaking or was it all blood? I stood parallized, praying and crying that my baby would be okay.
October 16th, 2010 - the day before Brooklyn's arrival
Brooklyn surprised us all (even herself probably), by arriving early. I'm beginning this story to tell of her entrance to the world and share the memories and experiences of her life. She has reminded us that no matter how your day is, good or bad, that everyday we get to live is a blessing and that new life is not a gift we give, but a gift we are given from our Lord above.
24 days until Brooklyn's due date:
The day before her birth was a day of Pumpkin Patch fun. We took Marley (5) and met her Grandparents (Max and Carol) and many other family members at Bauman Farms.
The day was beautiful with lots of sunshine and fun as we enjoyed the mazes, yummy food, and of course the pumpkin patch. Even being over 9 months pregnant, I felt great and had a wonderful time with the family. By afternoon, we were all spent and ready to head home. Once there, we relaxed for just a few minutes before getting cleaned up and heading up to Saturday night service at WSFC. Although tired, I still felt like I did the day before and day before that. Pregnant, but happy!
24 days until Brooklyn's due date:
The day before her birth was a day of Pumpkin Patch fun. We took Marley (5) and met her Grandparents (Max and Carol) and many other family members at Bauman Farms.
The day was beautiful with lots of sunshine and fun as we enjoyed the mazes, yummy food, and of course the pumpkin patch. Even being over 9 months pregnant, I felt great and had a wonderful time with the family. By afternoon, we were all spent and ready to head home. Once there, we relaxed for just a few minutes before getting cleaned up and heading up to Saturday night service at WSFC. Although tired, I still felt like I did the day before and day before that. Pregnant, but happy!
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