This is not a peaceful birth story. Also, there is a lot of blood in it.
It begins at the 18 week ultrasound, when I was diagnosed with placenta previa. The previa was complete, in that it covered my cervix, but my midwives and the doctor doing the scan agreed that it was very likely to resolve, as the placenta wasn't centered on the cervical os. They told me not to worry, and scheduled a follow-up ultrasound for 30 weeks.
At sometime around week 27, I had a small bleed. I went to the hospital, where they kept me for about four hours. I stopped bleeding, and they sent me home on pelvic rest. They told me that if I bled again, I would probably have to stay in the hospital longer.
At 29 weeks, 4 days, I bled again. Again, I went to the hospital. The midwives warned me that, this time, they might want to keep me until delivery. They gave me beta methasone just in case I delivered, but the bleeding stopped, and they let me out of the hospital after only a week. I was sent home on bed rest. We rescheduled the 30 week ultrasound for week 32 - there would be no difference, we reasoned, between the last scan at the hospital on Thursday morning, and the scan at the midwives office on Friday.
I hated bed rest. Because DH and I usually sleep on the third floor, where there is no bathroom, we moved me into the spare room on the second floor. I missed sleeping with my husband, I missed being able to casually walk up and down the stairs. I missed being able to pick up our son. I missed going grocery shopping and doing my own laundry. I hated lying around with nothing to do, except wonder when or if I would bleed again.
At 32w, 4d, at about 10:25 at night, I felt myself start to leak. I stood up to see if I was bleeding, and left a bright red splotch on my sheets. I felt blood start to run down my thighs. DH was upstairs, already asleep, my phone was downstairs. I went up.
I pounded on the bedroom door and yelled to wake my husband. "I'm bleeding again," I told him.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.
There was blood spattering the ankles of my pajama pants. "Call 911," I said.
"Ambulance?" He asked.
I said yes. We wanted an ambulance.
I went back to the second floor to pee and get a pad from the bathroom. I can't tell that it made any difference. A gush of blood hit it, filled it, and kept overflowing down my legs. I grabbed a bathrobe, and went down to the first floor. I unlocked the front door, and started gathering things: my purse, my phone, my knitting. Things I wouldn't look at, as it turned out, for at least a day.
DH came downstairs and handed me the phone. The 911 dispatcher. "You're bleeding?" she asked.
"Yes. I'm bleeding a lot."
"And you have placenta previa."
"Yes."
"How many pads have you soaked through, in the last hour?"
"The bleeding just started a few minutes ago. I put in a pad, but it's not making any difference."
"Okay. The ambulance is coming. Lie down on your side for now, until it gets there."
I lay down on the floor in the front hall. "The front door is unlocked." I told her. I gave the phone back to DH.
We called my mother, to let her know what was happening and to cancel her plans to bring me to the doctor's on Friday. We called our housemate, to ask if he could come home and watch DS.
We heard the ambulance arrive a few minutes later, and DH went out to bring the paramedics in. I was able to walk to the ambulance, with one paramedic carrying my things, and one keeping a firm hand under my arm. They loaded me on to the gurney and asked if they could do a quick visual exam to make sure the baby wasn't coming now. I agreed, and helped them to strip off my pajama pants, which were now soaked, thigh to ankle, with blood. They decided not to do the full exam after all, but put a sheet over me and started the sirens for the run to the hospital.
At the hospital, they took me in the back entrance and straight up to L&D. We spent a few minutes hung up at the receptionist's desk, and then a nurse arrived to take me back, past triage, straight to a delivery room. They barely had me in a bed before two doctors arrived. They wanted to do a vaginal exam, and while they were setting up, the nurse strapped monitors to me for a non-stress test. The baby's heart rate was good. I was contracting a little. They sent in an anesthesiologist to hook up an IV line in my left hand, and a hep lock in my right. They wanted me to sign consent forms.
They had to prop up my hips and clear blood clots out of the way in order to do the vaginal exam, which showed that I was 2-3 cm dilated. There was another clot obscuring part of the cervix, and the doctor didn't want to touch it.
My husband got to my room at about the same time as an ultrasound machine. The baby looked okay. The placenta looked okay, for now. My DH asked if I wanted my mother to come. Not yet, I said. Maybe. It depends.
The attending OB came in. I'd met him before, on my previous hospital stay. I liked him. We joked about my repeated visits. "We should schedule you for a section," he said. "It's awfully early," I pointed out. He agreed, but he didn't think I would make it another two weeks without more bleeding. Better, he reasoned, to do a section when the baby and the placenta were fine than to wait for another crisis. And while the hemorrhage had slowed, I was still bleeding. When did he have in mind, I asked, thinking I would have the baby next week. "The OR is free now," he said.
Oh. I thought. Now.
There were suddenly more people, again. A nurse to shave my belly and wash my legs. A neonatologist to talk to us about the NICU. Another nurse to give DH a surgical gown and sterile booties. I told DH to ask my mother to come, and they wheeled me into the OR.
Once they got the spinal in, and laid me back on the table, I started to feel strangely comfortable. There was no pain. They brought DH in and he held my hand. They hung up a bunch of blue drapes, and I couldn't see my belly anymore, but I was contented to look at my husband, and at the ceiling. The smell of the oxygen mask made me nauseous, so they switched it out for two tiny tubes that blew oxygen up my nose. I felt them cut, and tug at my belly, but nothing hurt. After a few minutes, I heard a sound like a duck, quacking indignantly. I heard a doctor say "It's a girl." Our daughter.
A few more minutes, and they brought her to us, swaddled in blankets. Her eyes were squeezed shut in the bright lights. DH held her. They brought her to me and I kissed her head before they took her to the NICU.
That was about four days ago. Right now, I seem to divide my time between napping, pumping, and visiting the NICU myself. I am home, and sore, and trying to get in one single chore a day. My ambition for tomorrow is one load of laundry. I am so glad to be home, picking up parts of my normal life again. I can climb stairs whenever I want. I can sleep with my husband, and play snuggle games with our son. I don't feel up to doing much yet, but every day I drive past the park where I want to start jogging again when I can.
Viv will probably be in the NICU until something closer to her due date, which was in November. She's pursuing a meandering path to health and strength, and she seems better every day so far.
It begins at the 18 week ultrasound, when I was diagnosed with placenta previa. The previa was complete, in that it covered my cervix, but my midwives and the doctor doing the scan agreed that it was very likely to resolve, as the placenta wasn't centered on the cervical os. They told me not to worry, and scheduled a follow-up ultrasound for 30 weeks.
At sometime around week 27, I had a small bleed. I went to the hospital, where they kept me for about four hours. I stopped bleeding, and they sent me home on pelvic rest. They told me that if I bled again, I would probably have to stay in the hospital longer.
At 29 weeks, 4 days, I bled again. Again, I went to the hospital. The midwives warned me that, this time, they might want to keep me until delivery. They gave me beta methasone just in case I delivered, but the bleeding stopped, and they let me out of the hospital after only a week. I was sent home on bed rest. We rescheduled the 30 week ultrasound for week 32 - there would be no difference, we reasoned, between the last scan at the hospital on Thursday morning, and the scan at the midwives office on Friday.
I hated bed rest. Because DH and I usually sleep on the third floor, where there is no bathroom, we moved me into the spare room on the second floor. I missed sleeping with my husband, I missed being able to casually walk up and down the stairs. I missed being able to pick up our son. I missed going grocery shopping and doing my own laundry. I hated lying around with nothing to do, except wonder when or if I would bleed again.
At 32w, 4d, at about 10:25 at night, I felt myself start to leak. I stood up to see if I was bleeding, and left a bright red splotch on my sheets. I felt blood start to run down my thighs. DH was upstairs, already asleep, my phone was downstairs. I went up.
I pounded on the bedroom door and yelled to wake my husband. "I'm bleeding again," I told him.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.
There was blood spattering the ankles of my pajama pants. "Call 911," I said.
"Ambulance?" He asked.
I said yes. We wanted an ambulance.
I went back to the second floor to pee and get a pad from the bathroom. I can't tell that it made any difference. A gush of blood hit it, filled it, and kept overflowing down my legs. I grabbed a bathrobe, and went down to the first floor. I unlocked the front door, and started gathering things: my purse, my phone, my knitting. Things I wouldn't look at, as it turned out, for at least a day.
DH came downstairs and handed me the phone. The 911 dispatcher. "You're bleeding?" she asked.
"Yes. I'm bleeding a lot."
"And you have placenta previa."
"Yes."
"How many pads have you soaked through, in the last hour?"
"The bleeding just started a few minutes ago. I put in a pad, but it's not making any difference."
"Okay. The ambulance is coming. Lie down on your side for now, until it gets there."
I lay down on the floor in the front hall. "The front door is unlocked." I told her. I gave the phone back to DH.
We called my mother, to let her know what was happening and to cancel her plans to bring me to the doctor's on Friday. We called our housemate, to ask if he could come home and watch DS.
We heard the ambulance arrive a few minutes later, and DH went out to bring the paramedics in. I was able to walk to the ambulance, with one paramedic carrying my things, and one keeping a firm hand under my arm. They loaded me on to the gurney and asked if they could do a quick visual exam to make sure the baby wasn't coming now. I agreed, and helped them to strip off my pajama pants, which were now soaked, thigh to ankle, with blood. They decided not to do the full exam after all, but put a sheet over me and started the sirens for the run to the hospital.
At the hospital, they took me in the back entrance and straight up to L&D. We spent a few minutes hung up at the receptionist's desk, and then a nurse arrived to take me back, past triage, straight to a delivery room. They barely had me in a bed before two doctors arrived. They wanted to do a vaginal exam, and while they were setting up, the nurse strapped monitors to me for a non-stress test. The baby's heart rate was good. I was contracting a little. They sent in an anesthesiologist to hook up an IV line in my left hand, and a hep lock in my right. They wanted me to sign consent forms.
They had to prop up my hips and clear blood clots out of the way in order to do the vaginal exam, which showed that I was 2-3 cm dilated. There was another clot obscuring part of the cervix, and the doctor didn't want to touch it.
My husband got to my room at about the same time as an ultrasound machine. The baby looked okay. The placenta looked okay, for now. My DH asked if I wanted my mother to come. Not yet, I said. Maybe. It depends.
The attending OB came in. I'd met him before, on my previous hospital stay. I liked him. We joked about my repeated visits. "We should schedule you for a section," he said. "It's awfully early," I pointed out. He agreed, but he didn't think I would make it another two weeks without more bleeding. Better, he reasoned, to do a section when the baby and the placenta were fine than to wait for another crisis. And while the hemorrhage had slowed, I was still bleeding. When did he have in mind, I asked, thinking I would have the baby next week. "The OR is free now," he said.
Oh. I thought. Now.
There were suddenly more people, again. A nurse to shave my belly and wash my legs. A neonatologist to talk to us about the NICU. Another nurse to give DH a surgical gown and sterile booties. I told DH to ask my mother to come, and they wheeled me into the OR.
Once they got the spinal in, and laid me back on the table, I started to feel strangely comfortable. There was no pain. They brought DH in and he held my hand. They hung up a bunch of blue drapes, and I couldn't see my belly anymore, but I was contented to look at my husband, and at the ceiling. The smell of the oxygen mask made me nauseous, so they switched it out for two tiny tubes that blew oxygen up my nose. I felt them cut, and tug at my belly, but nothing hurt. After a few minutes, I heard a sound like a duck, quacking indignantly. I heard a doctor say "It's a girl." Our daughter.
A few more minutes, and they brought her to us, swaddled in blankets. Her eyes were squeezed shut in the bright lights. DH held her. They brought her to me and I kissed her head before they took her to the NICU.
That was about four days ago. Right now, I seem to divide my time between napping, pumping, and visiting the NICU myself. I am home, and sore, and trying to get in one single chore a day. My ambition for tomorrow is one load of laundry. I am so glad to be home, picking up parts of my normal life again. I can climb stairs whenever I want. I can sleep with my husband, and play snuggle games with our son. I don't feel up to doing much yet, but every day I drive past the park where I want to start jogging again when I can.
Viv will probably be in the NICU until something closer to her due date, which was in November. She's pursuing a meandering path to health and strength, and she seems better every day so far.
