One Year Ago

A year ago on Saturday (January 7), I was headed in for my last appointments with my OB before I was due to be induced on Jan. 10. I had to see them for the last sonogram and a last check-up for my health. They were doing all the labs required before I was admitted. See, all this was going to be very routine and easily accomplished.

When I finally saw them that morning, the doctor said he noticed "a few things that needed a more in-depth analysis." When I asked, "Uh, wha? TELL ME NOW NOW NOW!!", he said - well, I'm just not seeing the level of amniotic fluid I'd like. I want you to go on to the hospital for a better scan. Most likely, the fluid has ebbed, and it will return. You haven't noticed any additional discharge, have you?

I told him no - I've been, well, dry as a bone. I seriously doubted that my water had broken.

He said he didn't think so either, but that the lower level of fluid was actually common with babies who were 2 weeks or more post-term.

Which, at this stage, Susanna was. We were due Dec. 27 (that was the latest estimated due date).

Fast forward to the hospital. I just went straight there, because I wanted to get this scan overwith and get back home so I could finish cleaning my house. Since I was being induced on Monday, I had to get everything together for my parents' arrival on Saturday afternoon. I didn't even stop to eat.

When I parked, I went into visitor parking - you know, the one for people who will be there less than 4 hours. I was ever so certain that I'd be leaving in time to stop by Picadilly before starvation set in. This was about 11:00 in the morning.

I got into the triage area, where they put me into a ER-style room with a curtain. I stripped below the waist. Dr. M came in and we spoke about what was going on. He had the tech bring in the ultrasound and we all looked at a big blur on the screen. Apparently everyone else saw thigns - I saw a grey blob blurring about.

He asked the tech to leave, and he pulled closed the sliding glass door. He said, very seriously, "Mrs. Mac, your baby is doing great. She's very healthy and thriving in there today." I smiled, very proud of myself for nurturing a baby healthily beyond term. Then he continued, "I want to induce today. The fact is that you have lost most of the amniotic fluid available. Given that it was very low 2 hours ago, and it's still very low now, it seems that either your water broke, or your body has absorbed most of the fluid. Your baby is very healthy and thriving, and I'd rather the two of you go on through the labor now as opposed to waiting another few days. The situation isn't serious, but it could become so in a matter of hours. I want to admit you now."

I looked at him calmly, and I said, "What about a little later. I need to go home and mop the kitchen flooor and wash my breakfast dishes. I really want to get some lunch too."

He chuckled - "Mrs. Mac, I may need to put this another way - you're not leaving. Call your husband and tell him that we're admitting you now."

Oh.

So I was admitted and the pitocin begun. They finally came to break my water before I had an actual contraction. About this time, Miss M's mother drops her off at the hospital, for Mr. Mac and me to watch (seeing as we had nothing else to do and all that). It was, after all, our weekend, I guess. Sigh.

My parents had left Georgia that afternoon, and they arrived in the hospital room about 10 pm. At this stage, I had been given the epidural and I was in full-out labor. Not too bad, though. But, I wasn't making a ton of progress in the dilation. I was at about 2 cm when I was admitted.

Thankfully, my parents arrived when they did - so that we could get the 7 year old out of the L&D suite, PRONTO! I sent everyone home to get some rest, since the doctor said it would be a while - I had dilated to about 4-5 cm. Mr. Mac, of course, stayed.

My parents got home, and then promptly called the hospital to tell me that the house is a wreck, and they can't believe it's such a wreck. Duh, I said - I kinda got admitted to the hospital before I could finish cleaning.

They got Miss M settled and in bed, and about midnight, Dr. M. came back to check me. He got That Face again. Then he tells me that my cervix had begun CLOSING BACK UP. From the contractions pushing Miss Baby's head against it, it just swelled up and was shutting itself back off. Miss Baby was trapped. He said, as calmly as can be, that they could either do a c-section now, or wait a little longer. Most likely, they would have to do a c-section regardless. I opted for "now".

So off to the OR. My poor parents got The Call a little after midnight (and now they felt guilty for yelling at me about my dirty house). They came back down to the hospital, dropping Miss M off with the neighbors across the street. Apparently, my mother was in complete histerics at this stage.

I have to say that my OR experience is the most surreal, bizarre thing that has ever happened to me. That's saying something, too. I mean, really. To begin it all, they didn't warn me that I would still feel sensations when they put shaving cream on my abdomen to shave it. I flipped out. They tied my hands down. Doctors apparently get to pick the music, and Dr. M. likes bad 70's ballads.

During my c-section, I got to listen to Dr. M and the OR nurses sing a rousing rendition of "Wildfire". It was one of my favorite songs as a kid. Now... I can't hear it any more.

Then It Happened. I heard this SCREAMING. Horrible, loud SCREAMING. However, I still felt kicking up into my belly. Susanna's head had been born, and she let us know, but she wasn't all the way out. Dr. M said - "Well, I guess we know she didn't want to come out - not many start screaming this quickly!" But out she came - all 8 lbs. 10 oz., 20 1/2", of her. Yeah, she was a giant string bean. Still is, for that matter.

I stayed in the hospital the requisite time, and a year ago today, I went home. With Miss Baby. I didn't think I could love her more than I did that day, but I actually do.

Even if she did keep me up with teething screeching all night last night. :)