Inappropriate Blog Entry: The delivery

Disclaimer: This blog entry contains subject matter that may be offensive or gross. Consider yourself forewarned.

I've been meaning to post about our experience in the delivery room for some time but it is awful challenging to do so with only one hand free and a baby attached to your boob, which is usually how things are when I'm next to the computer. Besides, who wants to relive that particular part of the whole "we're pregnant/we're parents" adventure anyway? Henry is cool but how he got here, um, not so much with the coolness factor there.

To start, my doctor of choice was out of the country, probably washing his hair, so I had to visit with another doctor to discuss how to get Henry out. My incessant mantra of "Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out." had done little to persuade the little fellow to drop out of my vajayjay. And the eviction notice Darr and I kept threatening did nothing to convince the kid it was time to join us on planet Earth. Thankfully, my secondary doc was on board with my plans to be induced, stating that if my due date passed and the baby did not make an appearance on his own, we could get the party started with a cocktail of drugs I like to call my friends, Misoprostol and Pitocin.

Even though we heard many times that only five percent of folks end up delivering on their due date, I was miffed when 14 October came and went and there was no baby to show for it. I mean, for nine months I was carrying around what we so eloquently dubbed the Resident Alien. Nine months. I was eating more vegetables than most vegans, staying away from alcohol, and no longer sniffing the crack*. Oh the sacrifices we ladies make, you have no idea.

The following Monday I was on the phone to OHSU ad nauseam trying to connect with my secondary doc to request she schedule the induction. Around 4pm that afternoon, she finally called back. 4pm. I was exhausted from frantically trying to reach her all day while hobbling around the condo in my 9-month pregnant body. Tuesday was not an option but it looked like there would be room for us to go in on Wednesday. I was left with instructions to call Labor and Delivery Wednesday morning to verify they still had an open room for us. So that's what I did. And the rest, as they say, is history...

Here's what occurred on the day we went in to be induced - all times are approximate:

7:30am - Call OHSU Labor and Delivery to learn they have a room available and we can come in. Woohoo!

10:00am - We arrive at OHSU and are promptly whisked away to our delivery room. (I highly recommend filling out and submitting all of the paperwork beforehand.) Our first set of nurses joke about how the labor will cause "mild discomfort." I am hooked up to a fetal monitor and contraction gauge.

10:45am - Nap time. 'Cuz, you know, we're having a baby. It is too exhausting to stay awake.

12:00pm - Seen by another doctor and told it is okay to eat lunch. Unhook from the monitors, put normal human clothes back on, and head downstairs to grab lunch at the cafeteria.

1:20pm - Take part in a hospital study. I am participant #105. The study - trying to see if using the ultrasound wand to take measurements to determine amount of dilation is more accurate than traditional method (i.e., using doc's own gloved hand).

1:45pm - Doc LeClair comes by to visit and predicts an arrival time of 4:22am the following morning. [Brave doc! -d]

2:00pm - Dr. Vederhovensomething with funny hair arrives and administers Misoprostol. What we quickly learn, getting stuff done in a teaching hospital can take time. Whatever resident doc spoke to you has to go to his/her attending and get approval before doing anything.

2:15pm - Finish monitoring. Ho hum...

4:45pm - Told we have one last chance to get something to eat. Without explaining our plans to the nursing staff, I change back into my civilian clothes and Darr and I escape from the hospital. Traffic is worse than expected but we still manage to drive home, fry up some ham and microwave a few potatoes, scarf down dinner, drive back to the hospital, and get me back into my hospital gear in the allotted time. [breakin' the law! breaking the law! -d]

6:00pm - Start Pitocin drip.

8:00pm - Feeling contractions. On the pain scale, I'd put 'em at a 5. If this is as bad as it gets, I can handle this.

11:00pm - These fucking hurt. Nothing helps with the pain. Not standing. Not sitting. Not kneeling. Not bathing in hot water. Not dying. Nothing.

11:25pm - Water broke.

11:45pm - Epidural administered and pain subsiding to a bearable level, back to happy land numero 5 of the pain scale.

12:00am - Side effect of the epidural hits. I am itchy all over. I waive the extra medication offered to reduce the itchy sensation because it is more weird than irritating. I learn the nerves that handle pain, handle itchiness as well. For approximately 9% of folks who receive epidurals, the pain is managed but the nerve continues to send out a signal, the signal being "hey, you've got an itch right here. And here. And over here. And down here. And here. And there. And, yeah, you itch here, too." The poor little nerves send out this message because it is the only thing the little nerves can do after the drugs hit.

1:05am - Practice push.

OH DEAR GOD.

1:15am - Real push.

SWEET JESUS.

1:15am-1:49am - This part is all kind of a blur for me. I pushed A LOT. And the kid moved further towards freedom. There were 11 doctors and nurses in the room with us - seven for me, four for the baby. Our docs ranged from the attending, who instructed the residents, to various levels of residents, who did what they were told to do, and the med student, who Darr says didn't do anything until it came time to clean up. During this phase, my contractions grew weaker so I couldn't use them to effectively evacuate the kid. And then the baby's heart rate began to drop. The options - vacuum-assisted delivery or c-section. But the baby was already almost crowning so a c-section would have required the doc push the baby back in to be delivered. Um, HELL NO. I signed the form for vacuum-assisted delivery.

Now, here's what they don't tell you. The cup that attaches to the baby's head can slip off. This would have been good to know beforehand. Our resident securely attached the cup to the baby's head and was pulling and straining and it was very clear there was a lot of force exerted and then

POP! The doc was flung backward, the vacuum cup went flying.

Me: "FUCK."

Given the horrified expression on Darr's face, we both had the same thought, that our baby's head had been ripped off with the cup and was hurtling through the air. Once we learned this was not the case, we were okay trying again. Same thing happened. And one final time. Damn, slippage. Frankly, my nerves couldn't handle any more vacuum help. I don't know where the extra pushing power came from but it showed up and with a few more pushes, our kid was out. Out, I say!

Apparently, even though I had requested Darr not look, he saw everything, including - from what he tells me - the attending immediately jumping in to take over once the baby was out. He did this because our dear sweet little boy had held his hand next to his face while being delivered, thereby ripping me on the inside. RIPPING. Ouch. The tear must have been significant because it took the attending nearly two hours to stitch me up. Approximately two hours and 20 stitches later, the nurses came in and helped us get ready to move to the Mother Baby unit.

The pregnancy was quite a ride, the birth even more so. I can't imagine what parenting has in store for us, but I'm sure it will drastically increase the number of gray hairs we have on our heads.

What we're packing

We heard we should pack snacks because hospital food might not meet our culinary needs. What we don't bring with us - for instance, pizza from Blind Onion - we will be able to get later on. Our snacks include the following:

Lu Le Chocolatier
Garden of Eatin' Yellow Corn Chips
Jolly Rancher Hard Candy
Life Savers Wild Berries
Yogurt-covered raisins (bulk from New Seasons)

To distract my mind from the happenings in the hospital room, we're bringing audio/visual stimulation in the form of magazines, music, and t.v. shows. We are still considering whether or not to bring the laptop, which will allow us to watch The Sopranos, 'cause nothing says "Hey, we're giving birth here!" like watching Mr. Gandolfini mafia-style.

US Weekly (so I don't have to think)
Brain, Child (so I can think if I want to)
iPod nano (recently purchased and loaded with music and t.v. shows)

Other essentials for Darr and I:

clothes
toiletries
camera (battery fully charged)
Tylenol (the hospital charges an arm and a leg for these)

And for the Resident Alien:

diaper bag (well, classic messenger bag)
turtle rattle
swaddling blanket
take home outfit with matching hat
burp cloth
car seat

Some things money can't buy

Current pregnancy stats

• There are nine days until my due date (October 14).
• 97% of my pregnancy has passed, there is 3% left to go.
• I am approximately 80% effaced with zero cervical dilation.
  
• The Resident Alien is approximately 20 inches and weighs approximately 6-7 pounds.
  
• This week our kid is continuing to grow, but the vast majority of his organs are mature and fully functioning.
  

It's 5:37am - I'm famished and can't sleep

What do you eat when you're pregnant and fungry* and it's too early for breakfast? Brie and Wheat Thins with a tall glass of Summertime Lime. I've been on a Wheat Thins kick for the last few weeks. Darr thinks they're gross, he's a Stoned Wheat Thins fan.

*fucking hungry

30 days countdown

Yep. It's the final countdown. And I don't mean that in a Swedish glam metal band called Europe kind of way, either. (If you're old enough, you'll know what the hell I'm talking about.)

We have made it to week 36. The R.A. is set to arrive in four weeks. Oh holy Zeus, we might not be entirely ready. For instance, our kid's room has no flooring, just scarred concrete sub-flooring that we found when we ripped the carpet out many moons ago. We don't have a changing station, although one has been ordered. We haven't yet landed on a name. I haven't created a phone tree. The crib we decided to get is on backorder. Zeus only knows when the mattress will be in. The hospital bag isn't packed. We haven't checked the camera batteries to ensure they are charged. The tires on the stroller need to be pumped up. And I haven't joined Netflix.

At least we have a car seat so we'll be able to get the lil' bugger home.

Cat pic found

Here's the latest from the old digital camera. It's an Ellie on my pregnant belly. Darr said she was giving the baby a hug. How cute is that?

Inappropriate Blog Entry: Massaging the what?

Disclaimer: This blog entry contains subject matter that may be offensive. Consider yourself forewarned.

Because I'm still awake, let's talk about perineal massage. I'm almost into my 35th week of pregnancy and apparently this is something I'm supposed to be doing to help prevent lacerations or the need for an episiotomy. (Yikes. Cutting or tearing anywhere near that particular region scares the bejesus out of me.) Oh great. <insert sarcasm here> Darr can help. At least he can according to the folks at the American Pregnancy Association, although (Zeus bless them) they are quick to point out "...this is not a sexual thing, but an exercise that can help make her labor easier."

What's happening with the R.A.? The lil' guy is closing in on 5 lbs and is beginning to fill out with the formation of fat under his skin. This will help regulate his temperature when he lands outside planet Womb onto Earth. His central nervous system and lungs are coming along nicely and he's got an excellent shot of surviving should he decide to come a little early.

No sleep for the pregnant

The R.A. has decided there will be no sleep for me tonight. Instead I'll occasionally stare at my lopsided belly where my lopsided baby is shifting around like those Mexican jumping beans I remember from my childhood while I read the NY Times. Here's a glimpse of what the paper has to offer at 2:09 in the A.M. on Thursday, September 6, 2007.

• Pavarotti is dead, having lost his battle with pancreatic cancer.
• Philanthropists get big tax breaks for giving large sums of money. (The nation's tax system offers the wealthy better tax breaks for charitable giving than it does the average taxpayer.)
• Rush Holt has drafted a bill to make electronic voting more reliable and less prone to fraud. It's missing one important thing, though, a ban on touch-screen voting machines.
• Apple cuts the iPhone price.
  
• Doctors link a man's illness to his microwave popcorn habit.
• NBC strikes a deal to sell shows on Amazon. (The greedy bastards decided not to renew their contract with iTunes because they want more control over pricing. I'll pay a $1.99 (iTunes current price for t.v. shows) for a show that I can easily and quickly download from iTunes but I'll be damned if I'm going to shell out an outrageous $3.99-$4.99 for an episode that is aired on t.v. for free using a service that is slow and unresponsive.)
• Larry Craig might not resign. Fight the good fight, my Republican friend.

(Reading interrupted by Darr kicking off his covers and accidentally burying Ellie MacPherson with the blankets. Must save cat. Okay, back to the...)

• Texas tycoon who broke the law by paying millions in kickbacks to Saddam Hussein's government to gain access to Iraq's oil.
• School cafeterias are shooting for a healthy menu, doing crazy things like banning fryers.
• Common food additives raise hyperactivity in kids, according to a study released today.
  
• To remember something, a cat has to do, rather than see. A cat uses "diverse neural pathways to remember different events." (I always knew cats were cool.)

Seriously, the kid is moving around in here. It looks like this (fast forward to 00:58 if you're in a hurry) and feels incredibly weird.

Pregnancy & Childbirth 101: Breasts and a business opportunity

Darr's Canadian relatives are in town tonight so I flew solo at the last of our birthing classes. I learned how to hold the Resident Alien like a football, how to squeeze my breast to facilitate the flow of milk, and that breast milk produced when smoking marijuana is nine times more potent than the pot that you smoked before you pumped. Nine times.

Um, I watch Weeds. Does anyone else see the potential here? I mean, nine times more potent. That's a significant increase. I'm betting the market has not been flooded with pot-laden breast milk. And I'm just as sure there are diehard pot smokers that would love to try this stuff. Get high and satisfy your hunger at the same time! It's pure genius, I say.

Current pregnancy stats

• There are 61 days until my due date (14 October).
• I am 219 days or 31 weeks or 7.2 months pregnant.
• My uterus is about 4.4 inches above my belly button.
• The Resident Alien is approximately 18 inches and weighs approximately 3.5 pounds.
• This week we're working on lung development.

Pregnancy & Childbirth 101: Hospital tour

Last night we toured the facilities at OHSU to see what awaits us when the R.A. finally decides to come into the world. The birthing suites are nice. The mother baby units are nice. It's all nice. And in just a few short months we'll be experiencing it for ourselves in a non-tour way. This was the last class Darr will attend with me as next week, for the final class, we're going over breastfeeding with a lactation specialist. Boobs galore might normally be of interest to the menfolk but since it is a bunch of pregnancy boobs instead of the boobs you get on, oh let's say, Baywatch, we're guessing all of the mens are going to opt out.

The best part of the class came when we were discussing the various medical procedures in labor and delivery, specifically the various interventions that can be used. One of the alternatives listed for Misoprostol was sexual intercourse. I wanted to ask, since Misoprostol is what you get once you are at the hospital, if that meant you could elect to have some, um, alone time with your partner instead of taking the drug. While I didn't have the guts to pose the question to the class, I did point out that particular alternative to Darr, to which he replied, "Finally, something I can do." I had to stifle the inappropriate laughter that followed out of fear the teacher would single me out to explain what was so damn funny. But seriously, is that an option? Do they just hang a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door to your birthing suite and give you a few minutes to take care of business?

Pregnancy & Childbirth 101: Instruments of torture

Last night was our fourth class and it started off with, you guessed it, more videos. I excused myself from the room and went to the lobby where I found a fascinating Thanksgiving edition of Sunset magazine from November 2006. I was not the only person with video fear. Two other couples showed up late to avoid having to watch the painfully real deliveries. I've already got a picture in my head of what labor is going to be like (see pic at right) and I don't think seeing the bottom naked half of a woman writhing in pain as she forces her baby's ginormous cranium through a 3.9 inch hole (that's as big as 10 cm gets, folks) is going to help me in any fashion, although it could very well drive me to jump off the nearest bridge.

Once that was over we talked about the things we need to have or do to help us while at the hospital. For me, keeping people out of the room and away from me (this includes students and the like who may want to closely monitor the situation) will be most beneficial. That, and having The Sopranos playing on the dvd to take my mind off of what I'm doing in between contractions. For Darr, there came a realization that he probably shouldn't offer up problem solving techniques because anything he says could cause him to be severely beaten, ignored or divorced.

And then our fearless leader Annette brought out the instruments of torture. Well, for the most part they were pretty benign - a fetal monitor, an oxygen mask, an aspirator, etc. It was the catheter that really got our attention. (I'm sorry, you want to put that where?) I don't think there were many of us who believed Annette when she tried to assure us it didn't hurt. The amniohook (a long crochet type hook with a pricked end) was also troubling in appearance. (It's used to break a woman's water.) And finally the vacuum, which we learned, thanks to Darr's clarifying question, is not hooked up to a compressor when it is used to extract the baby.

The more I learn in this class, the more I am amazed we've survived as a species.

Orange and Fizzy: The glucose tolerance test

No gestational diabetes here - woohoo! Yesterday I had yet another pregnancy-related doctor's appointment. At the previous appointment I was given a small bottle of what appeared to be medicinal orange soda - the "medicinal" part of the description comes from the white label with a big 50 typed on the side - along with instructions to drink said bottle right before my next scheduled visit. The test involves the withdrawal of blood an hour after consumption to check your glucose tolerance. Mine is fine, which I am more pleased to know than expected because I started reading up on gestational diabetes and came across the following information that I found quite troubling:

"The major risk for babies of women with gestational diabetes is excessive weight at birth...These large babies are at greater risk of birth injury than are others. This is largely due to shoulder dystocia, which occurs when the head is delivered through the birth canal, but the shoulders are too big to come through, preventing the baby from being born."*

The scale of excessive weight for baby reaches an astounding 14 pounds. 14. Pounds. Dear Zeus, that is the size of a Butterball turkey. I'm guessing that this does not feel good for the baby OR the mom. The book does not address how this situation is rectified but one can only imagine it is not fun, whatever they have to do to deliver the kid. Fortunately, the numbers of women who develop gestational diabetes is relatively small, in the 3 to 5 percent range for women in the U.S.

So, how bad is the fizzy orange drink? Not bad. Über sugary. I was advised that most women preferred the drink chilled so the bottle was immediately placed in the fridge after my last visit, with a warning to Darr not to drink it, where it remained until approximately 9am yesterday morning when I pulled it out of the fridge and commenced consumption, pausing mere seconds to snap a pic to memorialize the event. I found slurping the fizzy orange concoction through a big straw to be a most effective means of transferring the drink from the glass to my insides. Where, I am happy to report, the beverage remained. (One side effect of drinking this stuff is vomiting. As if you aren't already vomiting enough, eh?) On the scale of things to fear about pregnancy, drinking this beverage doesn't even really register, especially not after seeing that damn birthing video...

* Harms, Roger W. Mayo Clinic Guide to a Healthy Pregnancy. New York: Harper Collins, 2004.

Pregnancy & Childbirth 101: Reprieve

A last minute room change left our class with videos to watch and no working player with which to watch them. Yea! I mean, darn it, I was so wanting to see those. Tonight's class had us going over the labor and delivery portion of the pregnancy. Here's a breakdown:

Stage One

• Early labor, 7-12 hours, intermittent contractions lasting approximately 30-60 seconds
• Active labor, 4-5 hours, regular contractions (4-5 minutes apart) lasting approximately 60 seconds
• Transition (also known as the badlands of delivery), 1/2-1 1/2 hours, most strenuous contractions (2-5 minutes apart) lasting approximately 90 seconds

Stage Two

• Pushing, 1/2-2 hours, resulting in birth of the child

Stage Three

• Contractions and pushing, 10-40 minutes, resulting in delivery of the placenta (Um, GROSS.)

I so long for the stork to deliver us a nice, clean baby wrapped cleanly in a clean blanket. (The operative word being "clean".) Speaking of clean babies, in last week's video the woman gave birth to a gray lump of a kid who was covered in goopy slime and had a misshapen head. I have noticed that it appears to be normal practice to throw this goopy mess in mom's arms and I just want to let my doctor know that I'll gladly wait until the baby 1. has the goopy slime removed and B) returns to a nice human-pink color before having him placed in my arms. Thanks.

Pregnancy & Childbirth 101: The delivery video

We attended our second childbirth and delivery class tonight. And saw the video. The delivery video. Yeah. Um. Gross.

The one good thing that comes out of this horrifying video watching experiment, Darren is finally starting to see why I don't want people at the hospital when I go into labor.

Pregnancy & Childbirth 101

Things we learned in our first birthing class:

1. Pregnancy is scary business.
2. The hormone relaxin softens the bones in the pelvis to allow more room for the baby to descend during delivery.
3. The placenta looks like a jellyfish.

Delivery and shifting bones

So I'm reading an online article entitled Perception of Labor Pain and I come across this line and am utterly horrified...

Your partner can do a pelvic squeeze to reposition the bones of your pelvis and stop the pulling on the ligaments.

Oh holy Zeus. Seriously? Darr is going to "reposition" my bones during this process? Is he qualified for this? What the hell are my bones doing out of position?

News: Holy crap, I saw it move!

Yeah, so I'm lying on the bed this evening reading the book The No-Cry Sleep Solution when a weird thing happened. Not only did I feel the Resident Alien performing acrobatics in my belly, I saw my belly move, slight bumps and dips caused by no discernible body part (although I hear later I'll be able to determine whether it is an elbow, a foot or the like). Being pregnant and growing a human is incredibly weird.

The return of the morning sickness

I'm well into the second trimester, the so called "golden period" of the pregnancy because many of the unpleasant side effects of the first trimester like morning sickness are supposed to have subsided, and for the last two days I have puked in the morning. Not just 'felt sort of nauseous and like I was going to puke', oh no, actual vomit came up and out and it is gross and now I'm pretty pissed off. To top that off, my newly developed back pain was so reminiscent of a UTI experience from years past that I went to the hospital on Sunday night where I was treated to a ride in a wheelchair (this was fucking humiliating) and poked and prodded only to determine that, yep!, it's just regular pregnancy related backache. Wow. Pregnancy sure is fun. <insert sarcasm here>