I will probably update this post several times as things come back to me. I was so groggy on the magnesium (David can attest to this!) that a lot of things are foggy. I remember waking frequently to have to my vitals checked, I don't remember being bothered by this as I was so tired I was able to immediately fall back to sleep. My doctor, Dr. Davenport, came in at 11 and joked that I had slept from 11P-11A. That was fine by me; I was so relieved that the extreme pain was over and I could relax enough to sleep.
Dr. Davenport, my favorite doctor at my practice, checked me at 11AM. She said I was fully effaced, but only 1cm, if that. She said to expect to live in the antepartum unit at the hospital for several weeks until Baby Boy's arrival. Dave and I had debated for weeks what we would name our little man. Every cute name Dave came up with got veto'ed. Every cute name I came up with got nixed. We had a couple of names we mutually liked, but neither Dave nor I both loved the same name yet. Some of the names in the running were Fletcher, Alexander (but call him Xander), & Copland. We had seen Lincoln and Fletcher on street signs. I was arguing for the name Lincoln and call him Link (a la the Zelda video games) - I thought for sure that Zelda "link" would win.
Anyway...Dr. Dav checked me and everything seemed to be holding steady. My contractions had slowed down and held steady at 8-10 minutes. Dr. Davenport seemed confident that Baby Boy wasn't going anywhere. She promised to come check in on me later. She decided to wait until 11 PM for my second steroid shot, because my first had been at 11PM the night previously, and though you can take it at 12 hours, 24 would be better. Around 1:00, I told David to go home. I reminded him that the twins should be napping, Elliot wouldn't be off the bus for an hour and a half (and it would make her day for Daddy to get her from the bus), and he could just go home and rest. Our nanny, Sarah, told me that he came home and threw laundry in, did the dishes, cleaned up the back yard and essentially didn't stop moving. So much for resting. David is incredibly hard-working, and I know his concern was keeping up with everything as a single parent while I lounged in the hospital for what we hoped would be more than a month or two.
At 4:30, after more naps, time on FaceBook and updating concerned friends & family, Dr. Davenport came in again to check on me. She did not do a physical check, as she said that too many could actually force me into labor. She told me she had already delivered six babies on this shift and she was going home. I was amazed and didn't blame her for wanting to crash! I was still feeling perfectly fine and confident that I would be stuck here for weeks. I was due for my second steroid shot at 11PM. The steroid shots boost the baby's lung growth, giving them a much needed jumpstart should they enter the world early.
Around 5:00, I used my call button for my nurse to tell her that I was starting to feel pain from my contractions again. She said she'd call anesthesiology to come in and check - probably the epidural was wearing off. Around 5:45, I called her in again (no sign of anesthesiology) because not only was the pain quite bad again despite still having the epidural, but I felt a lot of pressure (like an extreme need to poo - sorry).
My nurse sent the on-call doctor in who checked me, and sure enough I was fully dilated. I couldn't believe it. The nurse yelled to call Dr. Davenport, I cried and had to ask someone to get my phone which was charging across the room. This couldn't be happening. I wasn't even 24 weeks yet. Chances were not great that this baby would survive. Doctors and nurses were trying to gently tell me that. I had to sign a paper that said I wanted doctors to try all measures to keep him alive. They had discussed that with me the day before. I tried put it out of my mind. I talked about it with Dave the day before - I was questioning what I wanted. Did I want them to try to keep him alive if he would live his life as a "vegetable"? Was I dooming my sweet boy to life of difficult disabilities? And why was this happening? What could I have done differently so that I wouldn't have gone into preterm labor? I shouldn't have gone back to work. I should taken the chair that James offered me at lunch duty. I shouldn't have carried that small load of laundry downstairs. I shouldn't have helped move a single item this summer for our new house. I should have stayed off my feet more.
When a nurse handed me my phone, I immediately texted our across the street neighbor and dear friend Sue. I said, "Can you go to my house until my in-laws get there? I need David now." Then I called David and told him the baby was on the way and I needed him at the hospital immediately. I knew he would call his parents to watch the girls, but I needed him there more quickly than that. Sue ran across the street to watch the girls until Bill and Betsy could arrive. Anesthesiology finally showed up and "topped off" my epidural - I was able to relax a bit more then, the pain had been very intense. What seemed like a lifetime and yet only seconds later (and was probably 15 minutes later), Dr. Davenport arrived. In the meantime, nurses were setting me up for delivery, the NICU team was called and was setting up. (When all was said and done, there were 15 people in the room, other than David and I.) While everyone was setting up, I told my nurse that something was coming out - she checked and my amniotic sac was delivering. It burst and it was go time. David still hadn't arrived, but Dr. Davenport said, "Okay, Stephanie, it's time to push." I started crying again. I told her I couldn't because David wasn't there. She said, "I'm sorry, honey, you have to push. The baby is coming." At that moment David ran into the room and for a second all was right in the world. With Dave at my side, I pushed. It was incredibly hard. I couldn't feel much. The epidural took away my ability to feel what was happening.
After about 4 pushes, nothing was happening. Nothing. I wasn't even having contractions. My epidural being "topped off" had sent everything to a grinding halt. Everyone stood around wondering what to do next. Dr. Dav sent the NICU team away, telling them to be ready, but to relax for a bit. She sat watching my monitor for a contraction, but nothing. They took me out of the stirrups and put my bed back together. My nurse laid me back and told me to rest for now. Dr. Dav went out to sit at the desk where she would monitor my contractions. After I think 25 minutes, she came back in and said she had consulted with another attending doctor. Baby Boy had to deliver. My water had broken and he moved down into the birth canal. I had two options, neither were good. I could have an emergency c-section. I have had two c-sections, but this time was dangerous. The pregnancy was too early so my uterus was too thick, I had scar tissue from my other sections, baby was so tiny and had already begun moving, the risk of bleeding out was very high. My other choice was to push without contractions. Dr. Dav said this would be one of the hardest things I have ever done. Too hard won out over too risky. I opted to push.
They took apart my bed again, got everyone all set up, and put me back in the stirrups. David and my nurse each took one of my knees. No one remembered to sit me back up. I pushed, and this time the angle was different - in one push I had nearly delivered my baby. Halfway through my second push he was out. The one blessing in delivering a 1 lb, 10 oz baby is that it doesn't damage you too much. The time was 7:53 PM on September 3, 2015.
I remember saying, "He needs to cry, I need to hear him cry!" The tiniest little kitten's meow came out of his little tiny body. A wave of relief swept over me. (A week later, it's still the only sound I've heard him make.) The NICU team went right to work. I had to stay put, but they were only a few feet away. The doctors did an APGAR test - I heard Dr. Mintzer, the head NICU doctor there, talk to a student: "What would you give him?" She replied, "I think a six or a seven. I'm going to with six, because no 23 week baby should be able to get a seven on an APGAR." He replied, "Okay, that's fine. He's a six." Two minutes later, I believe they repeat the APGAR. This time he scored an 8. Those are incredibly high scores for a preemie. But then again, our family has always been full of overachievers.
A swarm of doctors and nurses were working feverishly on him. Dr. Mintzer, who was calm and comforting, laughed and told us he had already peed everywhere. He invited David over to see him. Daddy took a picture for me. Everyone asked us his name - Baby Boy Amrine-Jaklitsch. Dr. Mintzer said, "10 fingers, 10 toes!" We said, "Did you count? Because his sister had 11 fingers, 10 toes!" After a quick double check, it was confirmed that he had ten and ten. Baby Boy was taken away to the NICU then and we were told to wait a couple of hours to check on him. Dr. Mintzer reassured us before leaving that his scores of 6 and 8 were pretty incredible and Baby Boy was off to just about the best start we could ask for of a micro-preemie.
Everyone left. The room was so quiet. Only David, Dr. Dav, my nurse and I were left. I forgot that when you deliver vaginally, you have to deliver the placenta. Dr. Dav said it doesn't usually take long. She massaged my belly, hoping to help. But I still wasn't having contractions. My body didn't seem to want to make my life easy. Dr. Dav commented that my uterus was contracting nicely and quickly. Unfortunately, because I have a bicornuate uterus (a heart-shaped uterus), it was essentially sucking the placenta deeper and deeper back into my body. After an hour of trying to deliver the placenta, I had to be taken in quickly for a D&C. An anesthesiologist was brought back in to turn my epidural back on (it was turned off during labor to try to get contractions going again), I was prepped for my procedure.
I started feeling nauseous almost immediately. I began dry-heaving as I was being prepped. Then the shakes began. They were whisking me off to an operating room and I felt worse than I've ever felt. I could feel myself being moved, tugged, gotten into place. I couldn't move my legs and could barely move my arms. They slid me onto the operating table, and I couldn't stay put I was shaking so hard. I could barely speak. People kept saying, "Stephanie, are you still with us?" I was, but I was having a hard time responding. I think I grunted as an answer each time. I was shaking so badly that my arms were constantly falling off the table. They had to center me back on the table several times. My legs were up in stirrups. My doctor had told David this would be a 20-minute procedure...it took 70 minutes. Apparently I was a challenge. I was incredibly nauseous and dry-heaving this entire time. Nurses were bringing heated blankets in for me and covering me including wrapping my face and head in them so that I could only see and breathe through my nose. I was still dry-heaving. I had my eyes closed nearly the entire time - I was so sick and tired, plus all I could see were lights. By the end, I was in tears and begging to be moved.
I was taken to recovery. David said that Dr. Dav said the procedure went really well - minimal bleeding and they were confident they had gotten everything. Dave asked me if he could go to see the baby, and I asked him to stay with me for a few minutes. Apparently then I fell asleep, snoring, and he went to check on Baby Boy. I was in recovery for what felt like a lifetime, trying to get warm again and sleep. We had had to wait for anesthesiology to come remove my epidural. I peed like crazy while in recovery - I asked for a bed pan at least three, maybe four, times. I'm told I peed over 1500 cc's - an entire IV bag - while in recovery alone. I've never been so uncomfortable as I was in that recovery room. What felt like six or seven hours later, but was only three hours later, I was finally taken to my room.
The nurse took me to the bathroom and got me settled into my bed - far more comfortable than the recovery room bed. Then she helped David convert the chair in the room to a bed. We asked for blankets, I was STILL freezing. There were no blankets on the floor in the unit, so some were requested from upstairs. They were there within minutes, and Dave and I were grateful to try to sleep. Dave's head hit the pillow and he started snoring. That guy, I swear. This was about 1:00 AM.
My nurse took my vitals. I asked her to remove my IV's. After all, I was peeing so much I obviously wasn't dehydrated. She removed one, but left two in, just in case. An hour later, I hadn't fallen asleep yet, so I buzzed for the nurse to help me again to go to the bathroom. About 30 minutes later, I still wasn't sleeping, so I crawled out of bed, walked around the room, climbed over Dave in his bed and got my iPad - he slept through all of that. Another half hour later at 3 AM, I still wasn't asleep. The adrenaline was obviously still pumping keeping me from settling, so I woke my sweetly sleeping husband (for whom my jealousy over his sleeping abilities was raging) and demanded he take me to see our son. He pretended to not be annoyed and even laughed at me a little. I hopped into a wheelchair and off we went to the NICU.
My son was beautiful. So tiny. So terrifying. Baby Boy's nurse, Kayla, assured me that he was doing well for one so tiny. We didn't stay long. Dave wheeled me back to my room, and we both fell asleep quickly.
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