It's been 3.5 years, and I'm finally writing out DD's birth story.
It was a lot to go through again, so I put it off all this time. I'm pregnant again and realize I need to process it in order to make appropriate decisions about what kind of birth would be best for all of us.
I had an uneventful pregnancy since I was under the care of a fantastic German obstetrician who was monitoring some medical conditions carefully (PCOS along with some generally benign cardiac stuff). I was very excited to try a natural birth, although I wasn't opposed to requesting an epidural for some relief if needed. But I had a lot of knowledge about different positions and techniques to try, and I was eager to try one of their birthing pools, which I instinctively knew would be a good fit for me as I went through labor.
I have a high pain tolerance and am pretty in touch with my body, so I actually looked forward to the experience.
Friday morning, just before my 37-week checkup, I noticed fluid when I woke up and suspected it was amniotic fluid. My OB was going on holiday and the intern I saw blew off that idea and said I must have leaked urine. (She was apparently too lazy to do a simple test to determine what it was.
NOW I know...) But the next morning, the same thing happened again, and then I had the typical "standing in the grocery aisle" experience when I got to the bathroom.
The hospital said to come in sometime that day, so, since my contractions were fairly weak and irregular, we finished packing, rested, and let the family know what was going on. We planned to keep everyone updated by calling DH's sister, who lived an hour away in Frankfurt, by cell phone. When we got to the hospital in the early evening, the nurse on duty was frantic and saying, "We haf been expecting you all day! Vere haf you been??" Whoops. Not good to make the nurses upset!
The monitoring showed what we knew-the contractions were fairly erratic and not terribly strong. They decided to wait until morning and see if things progressed at all. Unfortunately, this hospital wasn't terribly father-friendly-nowhere for DH to sit or stay with me since the birthing suites were full, and I was sent to a postnatal room with a clueless, talkative gal who couldn't figure out that her new baby was starving. LONG, restless night.
:
DH arrived back in my room around 8:30am, when the doctor had planned to examine me. I was brought into a birthing suite (woohoo! balls, rocking chair, bars, birthing pool
), but I was only 1cm dilated although fully effaced. The OB on call did an exam and said she would be administering a prostaglandin gel to help ripen the cervix and strengthen contractions. She would do this every 6 hours for a 24-hour period. If that didn't work, I'd need to rest for 24 hours before attempting anything else. The morning after THAT, they would move on to Pitocin. Yes, if you're adding this up, we'd be talking about 4 days/96 hours since my membranes ruptured, which really puzzled me since I was aware that they usually wanted the baby out within 24 hours after the waters broke.
I figured I'd have plenty of time to ask about that as the first dose was working.
During the physical exam to determine my progress, I noticed the time-9:30am. The doctor then administered the prostaglandin gel and the staff left the room. Immediately I was surprised by a burning, painful sensation that grew stronger and stronger until it was overwhelming. The pain became like a crushing weight on my abdomen and prevented me from breathing. I was trying to keep calm, but finally I gasped to DH that I couldn't breathe, and he kind of smirked at me and said something about it only getting worse from here. Then he met my gaze and his face got puzzled. "Your pupils are dilating and contracting, dilating and contracting, faster than I can say it!"
At that point we both realized that the constant beep-beep-beep of the fetal monitor was very noticeably slowing. We knew that going below 120 during contractions is normal, but as we turned our heads to the screen, we saw 115… 110… 100… 90…. We both realized something was very wrong, and John stepped out to find the nurse.
The nurse came in, looked at the monitoring equipment, and seemed confused. She tried readjusting the belt and then ran out the door again. A few moments later, Dr. Oender ran in and started readjusting equipment as well and said the fetal monitor might be misplaced. She wanted me to turn over to the other side but had to wait for a moment because I was retching and starting to convulse. Finally she and DH were able to flip me over, and she looked expectantly at the monitor. After a half second, she left the room abruptly and I thought perhaps everything was fine.
Not quite. Within about 10 seconds she exploded through the door again, this time with around 7 people right on her heels, shouting instructions. DH tells people that it was bizarrely similar to a chaotic scene from "ER", and I could barely hear Dr. Oender telling me that they were taking me for an immediate c-section. I remember being totally shocked and saying, "No, no, wait... PLEASE… what's happening?", but the medical personnel were jamming another IV into my other hand, grabbing things, and yelling in German. Most of the words I couldn't understand except, "SCHNELL! SCHNELL! [hurry, hurry]" (Me:
Oh, crap, I know that one!) I saw the fetal monitor one last time before they turned it away from me and saw that it was below 40 and dropping fast.
I heard someone telling DH that he had to remain where he was, and I frantically looked for him, trying to control the convulsions enough to find his face. He was completely drained of color except for a strange red rimming around his eyes, and while he was keeping his face stone-still, his eyes were terrified. The doctor was trying to get me onto the gurney and DH just lifted me and tossed me over, at which point they took off out of the room. We yelled "I love you" to one another over the chaos, and my last glimpse of him was that expression of a man whose life had caved in.
There were something like seven people hurtling that gurney down the hall, taking the corners so fast that someone had to literally hold me onto it. We blew into the operating room and I was abruptly lifted onto the table and felt my arms and legs being strapped down. I could see several people, including Dr. Oender, already scrubbing furiously in the room adjacent, and there were another seven or eight people hurrying around this room. Someone with a mask asked, "Frau K___, what do you weigh?" I panicked and cried, "I don't know! I don't know!" I then remembered my weigh-in from Friday's exam and called out to no one in particular, "Funf und siebsig kilo! Funf und siebsig kilo!!"
It was still chaotic, but I begged someone in a mask to please tell my husband that I loved him, and she said she would find him. I prayed some disjointed thoughts that this would not be the last time my husband saw his wife or baby and to please take care of him. The table abruptly tilted down to the left and I felt like I was falling off. I could feel my abdomen being wiped down with solution. I heard a man to my right say, "Frau K___, you will be going to sleep now"… and everything disappeared.
(Continued Below)
I had an uneventful pregnancy since I was under the care of a fantastic German obstetrician who was monitoring some medical conditions carefully (PCOS along with some generally benign cardiac stuff). I was very excited to try a natural birth, although I wasn't opposed to requesting an epidural for some relief if needed. But I had a lot of knowledge about different positions and techniques to try, and I was eager to try one of their birthing pools, which I instinctively knew would be a good fit for me as I went through labor.
Friday morning, just before my 37-week checkup, I noticed fluid when I woke up and suspected it was amniotic fluid. My OB was going on holiday and the intern I saw blew off that idea and said I must have leaked urine. (She was apparently too lazy to do a simple test to determine what it was.
The hospital said to come in sometime that day, so, since my contractions were fairly weak and irregular, we finished packing, rested, and let the family know what was going on. We planned to keep everyone updated by calling DH's sister, who lived an hour away in Frankfurt, by cell phone. When we got to the hospital in the early evening, the nurse on duty was frantic and saying, "We haf been expecting you all day! Vere haf you been??" Whoops. Not good to make the nurses upset!
The monitoring showed what we knew-the contractions were fairly erratic and not terribly strong. They decided to wait until morning and see if things progressed at all. Unfortunately, this hospital wasn't terribly father-friendly-nowhere for DH to sit or stay with me since the birthing suites were full, and I was sent to a postnatal room with a clueless, talkative gal who couldn't figure out that her new baby was starving. LONG, restless night.
DH arrived back in my room around 8:30am, when the doctor had planned to examine me. I was brought into a birthing suite (woohoo! balls, rocking chair, bars, birthing pool
During the physical exam to determine my progress, I noticed the time-9:30am. The doctor then administered the prostaglandin gel and the staff left the room. Immediately I was surprised by a burning, painful sensation that grew stronger and stronger until it was overwhelming. The pain became like a crushing weight on my abdomen and prevented me from breathing. I was trying to keep calm, but finally I gasped to DH that I couldn't breathe, and he kind of smirked at me and said something about it only getting worse from here. Then he met my gaze and his face got puzzled. "Your pupils are dilating and contracting, dilating and contracting, faster than I can say it!"
At that point we both realized that the constant beep-beep-beep of the fetal monitor was very noticeably slowing. We knew that going below 120 during contractions is normal, but as we turned our heads to the screen, we saw 115… 110… 100… 90…. We both realized something was very wrong, and John stepped out to find the nurse.
The nurse came in, looked at the monitoring equipment, and seemed confused. She tried readjusting the belt and then ran out the door again. A few moments later, Dr. Oender ran in and started readjusting equipment as well and said the fetal monitor might be misplaced. She wanted me to turn over to the other side but had to wait for a moment because I was retching and starting to convulse. Finally she and DH were able to flip me over, and she looked expectantly at the monitor. After a half second, she left the room abruptly and I thought perhaps everything was fine.
Not quite. Within about 10 seconds she exploded through the door again, this time with around 7 people right on her heels, shouting instructions. DH tells people that it was bizarrely similar to a chaotic scene from "ER", and I could barely hear Dr. Oender telling me that they were taking me for an immediate c-section. I remember being totally shocked and saying, "No, no, wait... PLEASE… what's happening?", but the medical personnel were jamming another IV into my other hand, grabbing things, and yelling in German. Most of the words I couldn't understand except, "SCHNELL! SCHNELL! [hurry, hurry]" (Me:
I heard someone telling DH that he had to remain where he was, and I frantically looked for him, trying to control the convulsions enough to find his face. He was completely drained of color except for a strange red rimming around his eyes, and while he was keeping his face stone-still, his eyes were terrified. The doctor was trying to get me onto the gurney and DH just lifted me and tossed me over, at which point they took off out of the room. We yelled "I love you" to one another over the chaos, and my last glimpse of him was that expression of a man whose life had caved in.
There were something like seven people hurtling that gurney down the hall, taking the corners so fast that someone had to literally hold me onto it. We blew into the operating room and I was abruptly lifted onto the table and felt my arms and legs being strapped down. I could see several people, including Dr. Oender, already scrubbing furiously in the room adjacent, and there were another seven or eight people hurrying around this room. Someone with a mask asked, "Frau K___, what do you weigh?" I panicked and cried, "I don't know! I don't know!" I then remembered my weigh-in from Friday's exam and called out to no one in particular, "Funf und siebsig kilo! Funf und siebsig kilo!!"
It was still chaotic, but I begged someone in a mask to please tell my husband that I loved him, and she said she would find him. I prayed some disjointed thoughts that this would not be the last time my husband saw his wife or baby and to please take care of him. The table abruptly tilted down to the left and I felt like I was falling off. I could feel my abdomen being wiped down with solution. I heard a man to my right say, "Frau K___, you will be going to sleep now"… and everything disappeared.
(Continued Below)