Charley June
On Friday, March 8th, 2013 I woke up feeling different but I couldn’t figure out why. I had one really big contraction that morning and dismissed it as Braxton Hicks. I took Lydia to school, met up with a girlfriend for a pedicure and lunch, and as soon as I got home (around noon) and sat down to pee my water broke! That was it. Nothing else. No contractions, no nothing.
I spent Friday trying to nap and catch up on sleep since my doula had warned me that labor is a nighttime event and to be ready for something once it got dark out. During dinner my 3yr old kept commenting on how the sun was going night-night; every time I looked out the window and saw it getting darker and darker I couldn’t help but get excited. Except NOTHING happened the entire night! I might have had a contraction or two that evening but nothing worthwhile.
Saturday morning I woke up determined to get labor going. My doula and I had already talked about the risks of ruptured membranes and going against medical advice, we both knew my midwife would want me to go to the hospital asap. I knew they’d want to start a pitocin drip or worse, go ahead with a cesarean and ignore my request for a VBAC. Jake and I took Lydia to a friend’s house (where she spent the majority of the day) and we tried to get labor going. We walked thoughout our complex, I went up and down my stairs until my legs felt like rubber, we pushed pressure points until I ached. I felt so discouraged, so sure that my picture perfect labor was slipping away from me; so I cried. Eventually we laid down and took an hour nap or so. I woke up feeling much more refreshed and so hopeful that once darkness came things would progess.
Saturday evening, after we put Lydia down for bed, I walked laps around the neighborhood, went up and down my stairs until my legs felt like rubber, ate the mess out of some pineapple, pushed pressure points until I ached- and nothing happened. I finally laid down on the couch and discussed my concerns with Jake. I didn’t feel comfortable spending a 3rd day trying to get labor to start knowing my membranes had ruptured so long ago. I regularly checked my temperature for any sign of a fever/infection, but I was still worried about the risks. We decided that we’d go ahead and go to the hospital Sunday morning and just try to get some rest.
Now was my last chance; my last chance to start labor on my own terms. I felt so much weight on my shoulders. We spent the night trying nipple stimulation, kissing, cuddling, and fooling around like teenagers on prom night! At 11pm exactly the lightening I was so desperate for finally struck- I had a hard, painful contraction for a full 40 seconds. I was so excited! The contractions came every 30 seconds; with every contraction I’d tell him “if I have one more we’ll call Bianca.” Eventually one of us called her to tell her what was going on and she gave us some tips, reminded me to keep checking my temperature, and to keep her posted.
The contractions slowed to every 6mins so I told Jake to get some rest and I’d call him if I really needed him. While he slept I went downstairs to watch tv and let labor progress without disturbing him or Lydia. After a few hours and much more intensity I made my way back upstairs and woke him. Somewhere along the way at around 5am Bianca came over and I was back on the living room floor breathing through contractions; all I could focus on was the ocean wave that would start at my feet and slowly rise over my legs, my hard belly, up to my neck, and then slowly crash back down to my feet and out to sea.
It was decided that Jake would stay home and wait for the sitter to get to the house and Bianca would drive me to the hospital. I was preparing for the longest car ride of my life, but once we got driving everything stopped. No more strikes of lightening, no more crashing waves, no more anything. My body knew it needed to wait until we were in a safe place again to let things progess. We got through the Pass Rd gate of Keesler AFB quickly and the contractions began again. I desperately tried to explain to Bianca where to park and where to take me between each deep, low moan as the contractions came.
We parked out front of the emergency room entrance and made the long trek inside. I paused and leaned against the walls during contractions, I shuffled as fast as I could to L&D once they had passed, a nice nurse along the way offered me a wheelchair and I thought “that sounds horrible!” I needed to walk, I needed to move. We continued and made our way through the huge double doors with the pink sign marked “Labor and Delivery.” We were promptly greeted by techs who needed to move me into room 3 to determine if I was in fact in labor. I knew I wouldn’t be in that room long so I only took my pants off and insisted on wearing two gowns. I just knew I’d be walking myself down the hall to my actual birthing room in no time and I didn’t want the world to see my rear end while doing it!
While rocking on a birthing ball a tech explained she needed to perform a vaginal exam to check for amniotic fluid to see if my water had broken. I declined the exam, so she called for the OB/GYN. Bianca and I were left in room 3 for what felt like weeks. The two of us breathed and rocked through each new crashing wave until Dr. Wheat finally came in. She was 37wks pregnant herself and planning a 2nd VBAC, I knew she’d understand my desire for no vaginal exams. But she didn’t, she insisted I be checked and promised she wouldn’t tell me how dilated I was. I finally gave in after a gentle, reassuring nod from Bianca.
Somewhere during all this Jake finally arrived. He came in the room and I immediately felt better, I knew everything would be okay as long as he and Bianca were with me. Having him there helped me find my rhythm. I knew he had come into the room, but it didn’t really register until I heard the first piano key play. I had him add “Balmorhea” to his Pandora One playlist just for labor but had completely forgotten about it in the whirlwind of everything. But he remembered. He turned on my Balmorhea and I immediately felt a fresh surge of energy.
With each contraction I would rock back and forth on the birthing ball while shaking my head left and right. Something about whipping my head from side to side while letting out deep groans just made everything feel better. My poor sweet husband kept telling me how wonderful I was doing, how strong I was, how brave I’d been. Every time I’d start the body rock and head shake he’d say “Jen, YOU are brave! No, you really are strong!” I don’t have a clue how long it took him to finally figure out I wasn’t disagreeing; I was simply in my rhythm!
I held onto the bedrail during contractions and while my head would shake and my body would rock the bedrail made this wonderful click. The whole frame would rattle and I would count the clicks in my head until the contraction passed and I had a few precious minutes to rest again. Bianca braced her leg against the rail to “stop the noise from bothering me” at one point, and I remember in my head feeling frantic and praying she’d read my mind that I needed that click!
A lifetime later it was determined that I was in fact in labor and would be moved to an actual birthing room, room 7. I knew what this meant; I wasn’t very dilated. When we toured the hospital they stated that all moms would be moved to a birthing room unless they were so close there wasn’t enough time, then they’d just stay in one of those tiny rooms. But how could I not be close to pushing? My water broke eons ago! I had been stuck in that tiny room rocking, shaking, and clicking for years! A wheelchair was brought to me and somehow I folded into it, closed my eyes, and hoped another birthing ball would be waiting for me in room 7.
As soon as we arrived in room 7 I stripped down and found my ball. Because I was a VBAC continuous fetal monitoring was required so I was hooked back up to all of my leashes. My IV was all set for antibiotics because I was group b positive. I was becoming frantic; contractions were more intense, all the leashes, cords, and cables were hot and tight. I began to cry and beg for an epidural, but Bianca and Jake kept assuring me I was doing great and didn’t need anything but to listen to my own body. It felt like eternity between contractions and I started to dose off. I felt Bianca brace the ball and support me every time I’d start to drift to sleep, but it was always short lived.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had lost my rhythm; I was becoming increasingly frantic with every contraction. I finally broke down and had Dr. Wheat come in to discuss an epidural. I was in tears, I was so disappointed in myself. She needed to perform another vaginal exam before I could get the epidural and I begged to know how dilated I was. I knew I had to be close, I just knew she was going to tell me I was in transition. But I wasn’t; I was only 4cm. I felt disappointed in myself for getting an epidural and I felt discouraged for only being 4cm after laboring all night/morning. I had worked so hard, how could I only be 4 small centimeters?
Once the epidural was decided on Jake left to relieve the sitter and take Lydia to a friend’s house. He repeatedly reassured me how proud he was, how strong I had been, and how he wasn’t disappointed in my decision to have an epidural. I couldn’t help but feel like I was letting him down, we had agreed on a natural birth.
At 12:30pm the anesthesiologist came in and had me do the unthinkable- sit as still as humanly possible for more than a few seconds. It didn’t take long though for me to feel some relief. I laid back in the bed and closed my eyes thinking how wonderful it would be to take a nap. Bianca suggested various positions we should try to work around my numb lower half while still helping the baby move down into position. I think we were all happily surprised to discover that I could still feel my legs fairly well in addition to the pressure of each contraction, it was just pain free. I could roll from my left to my right (though I preferred my left), I could get on all fours, I was even able to sit up and push against the labor bar. Jake returned and Bianca let him know her ideas regarding positions and movement to help the baby along, then left for a much needed lunch break.
Shortly after the epidural things took a turn for the worst, I had a 100.3 degree fever. In addition to my fever, the baby’s heart rate was high and not variable. I was given antibiotics and Tylenol in an attempted to bring my temperature back down. Dr. Wheat did another vaginal exam at 3:23pm to try and stimulate the baby, during which she announced I was 8cm. Just 2 hours of resting, moving around a bit, and sipping water I had dilated to 8cm! Despite my progress, Dr. Wheat requested internal fetal monitoring due to baby’s flat heart rate. Her attempts at stimulating the baby were unsuccessful and she only felt comfortable continuing with my desired VBAC if a closer eye was kept on the baby, so we agreed to yet another intervension.
While I waited for the Tylenol to kick in I found out my midwife, Col Rensch, had come to the hospital. It was her day off but she came in to check on me and see how things were progressing. She and Dr. Wheat took turns floating in and out of the room checking on me, the baby, and our progress. At 4:40pm I was fully dilated.
My fever finally broke, but more importantly the baby’s heart rate started to improve. Dr. Wheat reiterated how close she was to pulling the plug on the entire VBAC and taking me to an OR. Once fully dilated I remember asking Col Rensch “Can I push now?” As soon as the words came out of my mouth I felt like such an idiot. Of course I can push now, I could’ve pushed hours ago. The real question was whether or not my body had the urge to push, which it didn’t. I wasn’t out of the woods yet and all I could think about was getting that baby out of my overly hot, potentially infected uterus and into my arms.
Every time a contraction would come I would feel the pressure in my butt. It didn’t hurt, but it was definitely an odd sensation. When I’d feel the contraction come I would take a deep breath and push like I was going to the bathroom. Bianca put on gloves and pushed against me explaining “this pressure you feel from me? Push back. THAT is where you need to push,” so I would hold the squatting bar, take a deep breath, and try to push into her hand. I was sure if I could feel a little bit better I’d be able to do more productive pushing, so the anesthesiologist was called in to lighten my epidural.
A lifetime passed by. With the blinds closed and the lights off I didn’t have a clue what the actual time of day was. I kept looking at the clock to see how long I had been pushing and to ask if Jake needed to go get Lydia. He kept assuring me she was fine and not to worry. I knew I had to be close, Dr. Wheat kept saying what dark hair the baby had. I asked Jake and Bianca if they would see anything and Bianca explained the doctor could only see during vaginal exams. During an exam Dr. Wheat said she would see the baby’s ear; the baby was stuck at an angle under my pubic bone. At Bianca’s suggesting I got on all fours and laid my upper body down flat on the bed while Dr. Wheat pushed on the baby’s head. This was almost as rough as the contractions themselves, it was such a deep pressure it took my breath away. I stayed in that position for awhile in hopes the baby would back off just enough to get a little wiggle room and reposition. I rolled back over, waited for another contraction, and then pushed as hard as I could. Dr. Wheat checked me again and said the baby was still stuck and reminded me that, though my fever had broken, I had been pushing for some time regardless. Read: Despite how hard you’re trying we really need to consider a cesarean as an option.
I insisted on trying more, I knew I could push this baby out if I was just given a little bit more time. Out of nowhere an unexpected curve ball was thrown my way; hernia pain. I had completely forgotten I even had a hernia on either side of my cesarean scar until that very second when pushing and a sharp, ripping sensation filled my body. I howled out in pain; with every contraction I would feel a ripping sensation through my right pubic area and hip. Col Rensch suggested I lay on my back for the next contraction to alleviate the pressure on my hernia but it only made the pain more intense. I frantically grabbed at Bianca and Jake in an attempt to claw my way back up to an upright position. Bianca tried to put pressure on the hernia pain but nothing helped; I felt like a caged animal. The anesthesiologist was brought back in to adjust the epidural in an attempt to ease the pain.
While waiting to see if the pain management was effective Col Rensch had me breath through the next handful of contractions. The ripping sensation lightened up; within a few contractions I didn’t feel anything but go-to-the-bathroom pressure. I felt my hysterical nerves melt away. I began pushing again, determined to get that baby out. Thank goodness I had an epidural because I felt the pressure of Col Rensch using both hands to pull my body open as wide as possible, I can only imagine what it would have felt like without the epidural.
Dr. Wheat discussed all the progress I had made, how things were (not) moving along, and that in her professional opinion she felt it was time to go ahead with the cesarean. As soon as I made eye contact with Jake I knew we were both thinking the same thing; at 9:30pm we agreed to a repeat cesarean. We felt confident and sure of the decision, we had been completely involved and informed the entire labor. We also both knew I would have no peace of mind unless Lydia was safe and comfortable at home in her own bed with her Daddy tucking her in; so Jake left to pick her up and take her home and Bianca joined me in the operating room.
The epidural was adjusted to numb me from the chest down and I immediately felt cold and couldn’t stop violently shaking. The anesthesiologist assured me it was normal, but it made me stomach feel queasy. As I was being wheeled back to the OR Bianca yelled “Jake text me! He says he loves you and you are the most amazing woman he has ever met!”
I was moved from my bed to the operating table, bright lights were turned on, more people floated in, the drape was put up so I couldn’t see the surgery; everything moved so fast and I was feeling so foggy in my head and roller coastery in my stomach. Bianca came in and stood at my head. I was so cold. Once surgery began I felt more than just pressure, I felt pain. I was sure I felt what they were doing but everyone assured me it was just the pressure and nothing more. Whatever it was it hurt; this cesarean hurt different and more than my first. I was sure I would throw up and/or turn into a human icicle.
At 11:07pm my Charley June was born. The room was silent, there were no baby cries. I kept looking around in hopes I’d see her but I didn’t know where to look and heard no sound to follow. Bianca leaned in and whispered, “She’s pink! She’s beautiful and pink!” and then I heard it. My baby finally cried. That was the last thing I remember from the OR.
Bianca took Charley, opened up my gown, and ensured we had that golden hour of skin to skin. Charley rooted and smelled me while Bianca held her to my chest. She carried Charley back to room 7 to wait for me to come out of surgery; I like to think she was Charley’s own personal body guard!
The next thing I remember is waking up in my bed in room 7 and seeing SrA Johnson and Bianca across the dimly lit room at the baby warmer. Bianca scooped Charley up and brought her to me; she wasn’t swaddled and all she had on was a diaper. I opened my gown and as soon as she was in my arms and our bare skin touched she latched on to my breast beautifully and we nursed for the first time. At that exact moment I fell in love with my second daughter.
I spent Friday trying to nap and catch up on sleep since my doula had warned me that labor is a nighttime event and to be ready for something once it got dark out. During dinner my 3yr old kept commenting on how the sun was going night-night; every time I looked out the window and saw it getting darker and darker I couldn’t help but get excited. Except NOTHING happened the entire night! I might have had a contraction or two that evening but nothing worthwhile.
Saturday morning I woke up determined to get labor going. My doula and I had already talked about the risks of ruptured membranes and going against medical advice, we both knew my midwife would want me to go to the hospital asap. I knew they’d want to start a pitocin drip or worse, go ahead with a cesarean and ignore my request for a VBAC. Jake and I took Lydia to a friend’s house (where she spent the majority of the day) and we tried to get labor going. We walked thoughout our complex, I went up and down my stairs until my legs felt like rubber, we pushed pressure points until I ached. I felt so discouraged, so sure that my picture perfect labor was slipping away from me; so I cried. Eventually we laid down and took an hour nap or so. I woke up feeling much more refreshed and so hopeful that once darkness came things would progess.
Saturday evening, after we put Lydia down for bed, I walked laps around the neighborhood, went up and down my stairs until my legs felt like rubber, ate the mess out of some pineapple, pushed pressure points until I ached- and nothing happened. I finally laid down on the couch and discussed my concerns with Jake. I didn’t feel comfortable spending a 3rd day trying to get labor to start knowing my membranes had ruptured so long ago. I regularly checked my temperature for any sign of a fever/infection, but I was still worried about the risks. We decided that we’d go ahead and go to the hospital Sunday morning and just try to get some rest.
Now was my last chance; my last chance to start labor on my own terms. I felt so much weight on my shoulders. We spent the night trying nipple stimulation, kissing, cuddling, and fooling around like teenagers on prom night! At 11pm exactly the lightening I was so desperate for finally struck- I had a hard, painful contraction for a full 40 seconds. I was so excited! The contractions came every 30 seconds; with every contraction I’d tell him “if I have one more we’ll call Bianca.” Eventually one of us called her to tell her what was going on and she gave us some tips, reminded me to keep checking my temperature, and to keep her posted.
The contractions slowed to every 6mins so I told Jake to get some rest and I’d call him if I really needed him. While he slept I went downstairs to watch tv and let labor progress without disturbing him or Lydia. After a few hours and much more intensity I made my way back upstairs and woke him. Somewhere along the way at around 5am Bianca came over and I was back on the living room floor breathing through contractions; all I could focus on was the ocean wave that would start at my feet and slowly rise over my legs, my hard belly, up to my neck, and then slowly crash back down to my feet and out to sea.
It was decided that Jake would stay home and wait for the sitter to get to the house and Bianca would drive me to the hospital. I was preparing for the longest car ride of my life, but once we got driving everything stopped. No more strikes of lightening, no more crashing waves, no more anything. My body knew it needed to wait until we were in a safe place again to let things progess. We got through the Pass Rd gate of Keesler AFB quickly and the contractions began again. I desperately tried to explain to Bianca where to park and where to take me between each deep, low moan as the contractions came.
We parked out front of the emergency room entrance and made the long trek inside. I paused and leaned against the walls during contractions, I shuffled as fast as I could to L&D once they had passed, a nice nurse along the way offered me a wheelchair and I thought “that sounds horrible!” I needed to walk, I needed to move. We continued and made our way through the huge double doors with the pink sign marked “Labor and Delivery.” We were promptly greeted by techs who needed to move me into room 3 to determine if I was in fact in labor. I knew I wouldn’t be in that room long so I only took my pants off and insisted on wearing two gowns. I just knew I’d be walking myself down the hall to my actual birthing room in no time and I didn’t want the world to see my rear end while doing it!
While rocking on a birthing ball a tech explained she needed to perform a vaginal exam to check for amniotic fluid to see if my water had broken. I declined the exam, so she called for the OB/GYN. Bianca and I were left in room 3 for what felt like weeks. The two of us breathed and rocked through each new crashing wave until Dr. Wheat finally came in. She was 37wks pregnant herself and planning a 2nd VBAC, I knew she’d understand my desire for no vaginal exams. But she didn’t, she insisted I be checked and promised she wouldn’t tell me how dilated I was. I finally gave in after a gentle, reassuring nod from Bianca.
Somewhere during all this Jake finally arrived. He came in the room and I immediately felt better, I knew everything would be okay as long as he and Bianca were with me. Having him there helped me find my rhythm. I knew he had come into the room, but it didn’t really register until I heard the first piano key play. I had him add “Balmorhea” to his Pandora One playlist just for labor but had completely forgotten about it in the whirlwind of everything. But he remembered. He turned on my Balmorhea and I immediately felt a fresh surge of energy.
With each contraction I would rock back and forth on the birthing ball while shaking my head left and right. Something about whipping my head from side to side while letting out deep groans just made everything feel better. My poor sweet husband kept telling me how wonderful I was doing, how strong I was, how brave I’d been. Every time I’d start the body rock and head shake he’d say “Jen, YOU are brave! No, you really are strong!” I don’t have a clue how long it took him to finally figure out I wasn’t disagreeing; I was simply in my rhythm!
I held onto the bedrail during contractions and while my head would shake and my body would rock the bedrail made this wonderful click. The whole frame would rattle and I would count the clicks in my head until the contraction passed and I had a few precious minutes to rest again. Bianca braced her leg against the rail to “stop the noise from bothering me” at one point, and I remember in my head feeling frantic and praying she’d read my mind that I needed that click!
A lifetime later it was determined that I was in fact in labor and would be moved to an actual birthing room, room 7. I knew what this meant; I wasn’t very dilated. When we toured the hospital they stated that all moms would be moved to a birthing room unless they were so close there wasn’t enough time, then they’d just stay in one of those tiny rooms. But how could I not be close to pushing? My water broke eons ago! I had been stuck in that tiny room rocking, shaking, and clicking for years! A wheelchair was brought to me and somehow I folded into it, closed my eyes, and hoped another birthing ball would be waiting for me in room 7.
As soon as we arrived in room 7 I stripped down and found my ball. Because I was a VBAC continuous fetal monitoring was required so I was hooked back up to all of my leashes. My IV was all set for antibiotics because I was group b positive. I was becoming frantic; contractions were more intense, all the leashes, cords, and cables were hot and tight. I began to cry and beg for an epidural, but Bianca and Jake kept assuring me I was doing great and didn’t need anything but to listen to my own body. It felt like eternity between contractions and I started to dose off. I felt Bianca brace the ball and support me every time I’d start to drift to sleep, but it was always short lived.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had lost my rhythm; I was becoming increasingly frantic with every contraction. I finally broke down and had Dr. Wheat come in to discuss an epidural. I was in tears, I was so disappointed in myself. She needed to perform another vaginal exam before I could get the epidural and I begged to know how dilated I was. I knew I had to be close, I just knew she was going to tell me I was in transition. But I wasn’t; I was only 4cm. I felt disappointed in myself for getting an epidural and I felt discouraged for only being 4cm after laboring all night/morning. I had worked so hard, how could I only be 4 small centimeters?
Once the epidural was decided on Jake left to relieve the sitter and take Lydia to a friend’s house. He repeatedly reassured me how proud he was, how strong I had been, and how he wasn’t disappointed in my decision to have an epidural. I couldn’t help but feel like I was letting him down, we had agreed on a natural birth.
At 12:30pm the anesthesiologist came in and had me do the unthinkable- sit as still as humanly possible for more than a few seconds. It didn’t take long though for me to feel some relief. I laid back in the bed and closed my eyes thinking how wonderful it would be to take a nap. Bianca suggested various positions we should try to work around my numb lower half while still helping the baby move down into position. I think we were all happily surprised to discover that I could still feel my legs fairly well in addition to the pressure of each contraction, it was just pain free. I could roll from my left to my right (though I preferred my left), I could get on all fours, I was even able to sit up and push against the labor bar. Jake returned and Bianca let him know her ideas regarding positions and movement to help the baby along, then left for a much needed lunch break.
Shortly after the epidural things took a turn for the worst, I had a 100.3 degree fever. In addition to my fever, the baby’s heart rate was high and not variable. I was given antibiotics and Tylenol in an attempted to bring my temperature back down. Dr. Wheat did another vaginal exam at 3:23pm to try and stimulate the baby, during which she announced I was 8cm. Just 2 hours of resting, moving around a bit, and sipping water I had dilated to 8cm! Despite my progress, Dr. Wheat requested internal fetal monitoring due to baby’s flat heart rate. Her attempts at stimulating the baby were unsuccessful and she only felt comfortable continuing with my desired VBAC if a closer eye was kept on the baby, so we agreed to yet another intervension.
While I waited for the Tylenol to kick in I found out my midwife, Col Rensch, had come to the hospital. It was her day off but she came in to check on me and see how things were progressing. She and Dr. Wheat took turns floating in and out of the room checking on me, the baby, and our progress. At 4:40pm I was fully dilated.
My fever finally broke, but more importantly the baby’s heart rate started to improve. Dr. Wheat reiterated how close she was to pulling the plug on the entire VBAC and taking me to an OR. Once fully dilated I remember asking Col Rensch “Can I push now?” As soon as the words came out of my mouth I felt like such an idiot. Of course I can push now, I could’ve pushed hours ago. The real question was whether or not my body had the urge to push, which it didn’t. I wasn’t out of the woods yet and all I could think about was getting that baby out of my overly hot, potentially infected uterus and into my arms.
Every time a contraction would come I would feel the pressure in my butt. It didn’t hurt, but it was definitely an odd sensation. When I’d feel the contraction come I would take a deep breath and push like I was going to the bathroom. Bianca put on gloves and pushed against me explaining “this pressure you feel from me? Push back. THAT is where you need to push,” so I would hold the squatting bar, take a deep breath, and try to push into her hand. I was sure if I could feel a little bit better I’d be able to do more productive pushing, so the anesthesiologist was called in to lighten my epidural.
A lifetime passed by. With the blinds closed and the lights off I didn’t have a clue what the actual time of day was. I kept looking at the clock to see how long I had been pushing and to ask if Jake needed to go get Lydia. He kept assuring me she was fine and not to worry. I knew I had to be close, Dr. Wheat kept saying what dark hair the baby had. I asked Jake and Bianca if they would see anything and Bianca explained the doctor could only see during vaginal exams. During an exam Dr. Wheat said she would see the baby’s ear; the baby was stuck at an angle under my pubic bone. At Bianca’s suggesting I got on all fours and laid my upper body down flat on the bed while Dr. Wheat pushed on the baby’s head. This was almost as rough as the contractions themselves, it was such a deep pressure it took my breath away. I stayed in that position for awhile in hopes the baby would back off just enough to get a little wiggle room and reposition. I rolled back over, waited for another contraction, and then pushed as hard as I could. Dr. Wheat checked me again and said the baby was still stuck and reminded me that, though my fever had broken, I had been pushing for some time regardless. Read: Despite how hard you’re trying we really need to consider a cesarean as an option.
I insisted on trying more, I knew I could push this baby out if I was just given a little bit more time. Out of nowhere an unexpected curve ball was thrown my way; hernia pain. I had completely forgotten I even had a hernia on either side of my cesarean scar until that very second when pushing and a sharp, ripping sensation filled my body. I howled out in pain; with every contraction I would feel a ripping sensation through my right pubic area and hip. Col Rensch suggested I lay on my back for the next contraction to alleviate the pressure on my hernia but it only made the pain more intense. I frantically grabbed at Bianca and Jake in an attempt to claw my way back up to an upright position. Bianca tried to put pressure on the hernia pain but nothing helped; I felt like a caged animal. The anesthesiologist was brought back in to adjust the epidural in an attempt to ease the pain.
While waiting to see if the pain management was effective Col Rensch had me breath through the next handful of contractions. The ripping sensation lightened up; within a few contractions I didn’t feel anything but go-to-the-bathroom pressure. I felt my hysterical nerves melt away. I began pushing again, determined to get that baby out. Thank goodness I had an epidural because I felt the pressure of Col Rensch using both hands to pull my body open as wide as possible, I can only imagine what it would have felt like without the epidural.
Dr. Wheat discussed all the progress I had made, how things were (not) moving along, and that in her professional opinion she felt it was time to go ahead with the cesarean. As soon as I made eye contact with Jake I knew we were both thinking the same thing; at 9:30pm we agreed to a repeat cesarean. We felt confident and sure of the decision, we had been completely involved and informed the entire labor. We also both knew I would have no peace of mind unless Lydia was safe and comfortable at home in her own bed with her Daddy tucking her in; so Jake left to pick her up and take her home and Bianca joined me in the operating room.
The epidural was adjusted to numb me from the chest down and I immediately felt cold and couldn’t stop violently shaking. The anesthesiologist assured me it was normal, but it made me stomach feel queasy. As I was being wheeled back to the OR Bianca yelled “Jake text me! He says he loves you and you are the most amazing woman he has ever met!”
I was moved from my bed to the operating table, bright lights were turned on, more people floated in, the drape was put up so I couldn’t see the surgery; everything moved so fast and I was feeling so foggy in my head and roller coastery in my stomach. Bianca came in and stood at my head. I was so cold. Once surgery began I felt more than just pressure, I felt pain. I was sure I felt what they were doing but everyone assured me it was just the pressure and nothing more. Whatever it was it hurt; this cesarean hurt different and more than my first. I was sure I would throw up and/or turn into a human icicle.
At 11:07pm my Charley June was born. The room was silent, there were no baby cries. I kept looking around in hopes I’d see her but I didn’t know where to look and heard no sound to follow. Bianca leaned in and whispered, “She’s pink! She’s beautiful and pink!” and then I heard it. My baby finally cried. That was the last thing I remember from the OR.
Bianca took Charley, opened up my gown, and ensured we had that golden hour of skin to skin. Charley rooted and smelled me while Bianca held her to my chest. She carried Charley back to room 7 to wait for me to come out of surgery; I like to think she was Charley’s own personal body guard!
The next thing I remember is waking up in my bed in room 7 and seeing SrA Johnson and Bianca across the dimly lit room at the baby warmer. Bianca scooped Charley up and brought her to me; she wasn’t swaddled and all she had on was a diaper. I opened my gown and as soon as she was in my arms and our bare skin touched she latched on to my breast beautifully and we nursed for the first time. At that exact moment I fell in love with my second daughter.
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