The long awaited arrival

After a ‘dry spell’ of nothing coming to mind to write about here, I now have plenty to share! It’s been a whirlwind of activity.

Two weekends ago I got my boys to myself for 3 whole days because of Memorial Day, which I was stoked about. We just hung out and watched 30 Rock, ate a lot and enjoyed each other. I started feeling kinda crampy on and off throughout the weekend, but just shrugged it off, cause that was pretty normal for me. On Memorial Day, I got strapped up for my morning fetal monitoring and my nurse, Robin, had to place the monitor very low down to find his heartbeat. She commented about how low he felt, and told him sweetly ‘don’t come today!’ I had some hard braxton hicks contractions during the monitoring session, but they weren’t showing up on the contraction-o-meter, so we weren’t worried about it, and my nurse said that as long as there wasn’t increased bleeding, and they weren’t close together, they weren’t worried about it. We finished watching season 2 of 30 Rock and ate ramen noodles (don’t judge me) and settled in to bed. I had a few pretty hard contractions, but assumed they were just the ol’ braxton hicks firing up, since I was now 33 weeks, on my 4th pregnancy, and bleeding; all of which make for more painful practice contractions. I fell asleep, and woke up 2-3 times to the random contraction, settling back down quickly after each one was over.
I woke up bright and early at 6am, wondering why the heck I was awake at such an ungodly hour. I went to the bathroom and lay back down hoping to get some shut-eye before the docs came in to make their rounds and would wake me up again. But right when I lay down, I felt a strong contraction - thinking it would just pass and I’d go back to sleep, I relaxed through it and got cozy. 10 minutes later, it happened again. And 10 minutes after that. I called my nurse in and asked her to please hook me up to the monitor to see what was going on. She hooked me up, and Ronan was beating happily away, and no contractions were showing up. I continued to have strong contractions every 10 minutes that were hard enough that I had to lay still and breathe through them. The clock turned 7:00, and the contractions got more intense, a little longer, and now 5 minutes apart. The doctors came in to make their rounds at 7:30. The came in all smiles and asked how I was. I told them ‘Uh...ok....I’ve been having contractions every 10 minutes from 6-7 and every 5 minutes from 7-now’. Their faces turned serious, and they said they’d be in to do a cervical check to see what was happening. About 15 minutes later the lady doctor came in and checked me. I was as 1 1/2 centimeters (1/2 centimeter up from last week’s scare) and almost completely effaced, with Ronan’s head bearing down really low. She said she wanted to have my care transferred to the labor and delivery nurses, and have a birthing room ready just in case. She told me that the fluid felt low, and that his butt was sticking out all pokey. If I was in labor she said, they wouldn’t want to stop it, cause the most time it would buy would be 48 hours, which at this stage wasn’t a significant enough amount of development since I was far enough along to have gotten past the critical stage. Either my water was breaking, or the placenta was starting to shut down and not be able to provide enough fluid for the baby. Either way, they wanted labor to progress. 5 minutes later she returned and told me that word must spread fast, cause the nurses and the room were ready to go. My hubby had woken up my eldest to drive him up to my sister-in-law’s cause we couldn’t get hold of anyone to come get him. They said goodbye. My two new nurses came in moments later and said hi, my sweet antepartum nurse Joanne squeezing my foot and saying goodbye. The new nurse got out her IV kit and took a few vials of blood and hooked up the IV tubes to the vein in my wrist so I could breastfeed without it getting in the way. She told me we were moving into the birthing room, and I asked if I could go to the bathroom first. She got me unhooked from the monitor and I sat down. 3 huge contractions later (moaning through each) I passed my mucous plug. I came out of the bathroom and told my nurse that the contractions were stronger and my plug came out. Immediately she grabs the wheelchair and helps me in. I contract again on the short wheel down the hall (not fun) and I hear the nurse on the phone asking which room we have; number 8, the nice one. So now it’s 9 o’clock.

My contractions the whole time have felt much different to the slowly building, tightening and softening that made up the majority of my first labor. These felt like I was getting poked really hard with something and had someone pushing really hard on my thighs. All the pain was in my pelvis. At the start of each contraction, when my mind would start to freak out and say ‘I can’t do this’ I would force myself to moan and breathe through. The nurses asked if I wanted any pain meds, so I had her explain what all the options were. I decided against an epidural (although, I admit, it sounded realllllllly nice) and was told I probably didn’t have time for one anyway, and the other options were a perineal block which wouldn’t do much for contractions and a drug that would be given through IV, wouldn’t last long, and too much could hurt the baby. I turned them all down, and readied myself to continue au natural. I was a VERY loud laborer. It was the only way I could stay on top of if. Once, when I felt kinda self-conscious about how loud I was, I just thought, ya know, this is MY pain....I’m gonna do whatever it takes to deal with it......screw how it makes anyone else feel. It was really strange to labor without hubby there, I felt almost like I was waiting for him to get back to really labor. But hubby or no, things were progressing.....fast. The doc came in (ironically it was the same doctor who examined me when I first came in 9 weeks earlier) and checked to see how far along I was. I was moaning really loudly through each contraction, now just a few minutes apart. It must have scared the doc, cause mid-contraction he says (despite the nurses telling him I didn’t want drugs) ‘Mrs. Wisniew!! I need to talk to you about an epidural!! You are in labor!!’ No shit. He tells me I’m 5 centimeters, and how helpful epidurals are to handle pain, and how studies have shown how great they are and shit. I knew he wouldn’t stop til he’d said his bit, so I let him finish and as I was starting another contraction, I told him no thanks and let my moaning cut off any further debate. The whole time the nurses were telling him ‘she’s done this before, and some ladies CHOOSE to go naturally....it’s ok!!’ He gives up and lets me labor. With the contraction that beautifully ended the debate, I started feeling really nauseous and shaking violently. This is it. I’m in transition. I moan-yell and feel a hand squeeze mine and a hand warm on my leg. I squeeze hard back, grateful for the comfort, and open my eyes to see hubby!! He’d gotten on the freeway, decided it was crazy to think he could get to Everett, fight traffic and make it back in time. He called my mother in-law who came down immediately and he turned his ass around to come be with me. Sleepy eyed Judah was just looking around and didn’t act scared at all. The nurses said that our stuff needed to be moved out of our room so he went to go pack things up. While he was away I had 2 or 3 contractions and then felt an enormous need to push. I told the nurse that, and she said to breathe it out and don’t push until they could have the doctor confirm that it was ok. I waited for him, at first asking please can I push with every contraction, and then WHY? and then simply informing them that I couldn’t help it, that even though I was trying to not push, he was coming out anyway. The doctor came in and as soon as I was done with one contraction I yelled that I needed to push NOW. He takes forever to decide whether or not it’s ok . Hubby’s back at this point, with Judah being watched by a sweet nurse in the hall, who of course he’s used to cause he’s seen her around the last 9 weeks. Another doctor who’s been seeing me comes in, takes one look at me and tells the undecided doctor to let me push already. Hubby puts his face close to mine and says ‘Corinne! you get to push!!’ What beautiful words. In tears of sweet relief I tell him to pull my leg up.....no....UP!.....I mean...back!! I barely start pushing and he crowns and is out laying on the bed before I can get a full push out. I look down and see his sweet little body being scooped up, and the cord being cut. I start laughing and crying hysterically and all I can say is ‘Oh my God! There he is! He’s beautiful!’ I looked at hubby and told him ‘he’s chubby!’ We’re both crying and can’t believe our little boy is here. I ask if he’s ok, and hubby tells me to listen to the loud crying! He’s loud and breathing like a pro. They brought Ronan over all swaddled up and again I ask if he’s ok. They tell me I wouldn’t be holding him if he wasn’t. Hubby and I both take a turn holding our babe, then he went with Ronan and the docs to NICU so they could put him in the isolette. He was born on June 1st, at 9:37am. 3 hours, 37 minutes of labor. (contractions didn’t show up on the monitor the whole time!) 33 weeks 3 days old.

Meanwhile, I’m shaking like crazy from the pitocin and the nurses are massaging my uterus trying to get it to stay firm and contract. It felt like labor all over again, the pain was so intense! It’s not firming up like they want it to, so the doctor comes back to check it out. He does some uterine massage that hurts like hell. Fortunately Hubby is back and can hold my hand and stroke my hair and tell me I’m doing good while I yell and moan through the vigorous massage. Ouch. He feels some clots that he wants to try to work out, and the nurses stop him so that they can give me some fentanyl to help the pain. He gives me a minute for it to work then goes back at it. Finally it’s done, and I have a little rest. NOW I feel the drugs start working....2 minutes too late. Oh well. I’m given more pitocin, and some pills to dissolve in my cheek that make the uterus contract more. My nice advocate nurse decides to try some gentler massage to see if she can work the clots out, and it works! Man, my nurses seem so on top of things. And I was worried about a hospital birth! They were absolutely amazing. They were more than happy to attend my birth, cause they wanted to assist a vaginal birth, and had a scheduled c-section they were called away from for me. They said I made their day.

After I stopped shaking and had a little something to eat, I got to go see my baby. He was so gorgeous and tiny. From the moment he was born, the Magnificat and every psalm of praise I could think of was running joyfully through my head.

Only 2 weeks earlier, my docs were seriously considering sending me home, but providentially I bled a little more and they wanted to keep me longer to watch me. Thank God they did, because I would not have made it to the hospital after deciding I was in labor, and it would have been terrifying. The Lord has watched over me and Ronan from the time he was conceived. Every threatening situation was kept safe and I had the best of care. Praise the Lord for His unending love!

Ronan is now 2 weeks old tomorrow. He’s growing, healthy, and we’re just waiting for him to mature enough to take all his feeds on his own and put on some weight. Judah adores his little brother and talks sweetly about him and touches him gently.

Ronan Zephaniah. ‘Yahweh has remembered His little oath.’

‘My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for He has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for He who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is His name. And His mercy is for those who fear Him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with His arm; He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts; He has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble estate; He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich He has sent away empty. ‘

About to crest the hill....

Last night was what I'd call 'eventful'.

Just chillin' reading my book, I felt my stomach harden into a braxton hicks contraction, and felt a small gush. I called the nurse in, and she checked me out and hooked me up to the fetal monitor to measure baby's heartbeat and my contractions. Baby looked great, and they weren't picking up any noteworthy contractions, so they took me off after about an hour. Then the contractions started being accompanied by pain in my lower back and thighs, and they were a lot more uncomfortable. Back on the monitor. I stayed on for a couple more hours, and the doc came in the check my cervix a couple times, and after noting no change in my cervix, and only minimal contractions, they took me off the monitor again and said they'd keep an eye on it. The cramping pains died down and I was finally able to go to sleep at 2am.

I didn't feel like I was going into labor, and I also knew that if the contractions got more intense, they have the means here to calm everything down and keep me pregnant for a while longer if need be. But I couldn't help but feel worried, not wanting Ronan to come just yet! It took my hubby gently reminding me to relax and pray to calm me down. He helped focus me and reminded me that a tense body will just make the contractions worse. I feel for all the mom's that face a premature labor, it must be such a scary thing, with the fear and concern escalating the labor pains. I remember my childbirth instructor going through relaxation techniques with me every week, training my body to release all tension. She told me that fear and tension make labor harder, take longer, and hurt more. During my labor with Judah, I thought briefly of testing that theory by tensing up during a contraction, but decided I completely believed her and that didn't need the extra evidence!

While I was hooked up to the monitor, and waiting for my contractions to die down, I was distracting myself with continuing reading my book. I had just reached the part of the story where the heroine becomes pregnant. As I lay there reading, the story unfolded....she went riding with her husband, and stopping to take a rest, they found blood all over her saddle and quickly took her home to bed. Her midwife said the baby wouldn't live, and that she needed to be confined to her bed until 'birth pains' began, about 4 months. I thought this very providential, and thought I'd include the portion of my reading that struck me the most.

'I have seen this before,' said Heilyn gravely, 'and it is never good. The child will die and take you with it unless you do as I say. Even then, nothing is certain.'
Charis gripped Taliesin's hand hard, but her jaw was set and her glance strong. 'Is there no hope at all?'
'Little enough, child. But what hope there is lies with you.'
'With me? Why, you have but to tell me and I will do all in my power to see my child born alive.'
'There is no hope for the child,' Heilyn declared flatly. 'What we do, we do to save it's mother.'
'But if I am to be saved, may the child not live as well?'
The midwife shook her head slowly. 'I have never known it. And often enough the husband digs two graves in the end.'
'Tell us what may be done,' said Taliesin
'Stay you in that bed until the birth pains come on you.' She paused and shrugged. 'That is all.'
'Is there no remedy?' asked Charis, thinking that four months was a very long time to lie abed.
'Rest IS the remedy,' replied Heilyn tartly. 'Rest-and it is no certain cure. The bleeding has stopped, and that is good, but I have no doubt it will begin again if you stir from this room.'
'Very well, I will do as you say. But even so I will not give up hope for my child.'
'Yours is the life we must look after now.' She made a slight bow of the head and turned to leave the room. 'I will send food and you must eat it. That is the best way to regain your strength.'
When she had gone Charis said, 'I will do as she says, but I will not give up hope.'
'And I will sit with you every day. We will pray and we will talk and the time will take wings.' said Taliesin
'I will endure my confinement.' said Charis firmly. 'I have endured more difficult trials for less worthy ends.'

It was encouraging to me to be going through a similar trial as the characters in my book whom I have grown to love. My situation is not nearly as dire, but it strengthened my resolve to read of theirs.

I feel much better today, and am glad to be here in the hospital with help right outside my door. I'm a mere 1 1/2 weeks away from 34 weeks, a milestone in Ronan's development, insuring a much healthier baby than if he was born earlier. I'm praying for the next 10 days to go by uneventfully, and will be praying each week following for another week after that. It feels like I am about to crest a hill, and after next Saturday, it'll all be downhill from there.

'In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.' Psalm 4:8

Funny thing happened today...

Bright and early this morning, 6am, knock comes on the door and the labs guy comes in to take my blood. I offer up my left arm with the id bracelet, and he says, no, he wants to draw from the right arm. OK. He takes the blood, and I ask what it's for. He gets out his paper and says some abbreviation for things that mean nothing to me. I asked him what they were, and he says they code them like that for confidentiality and he doesn't know. I thought it was strange, cause usually the doctor, nurse and lab guy can, and do all tell me exactly why I'm getting my blood tested. He glances at my id bracelet and heads out the door.

An hour and a half later the docs come in, do their usual line of questioning 'pain?....no.....any more bleeding?.....no.....baby moving?.....yes....contractions?.....no' and I ask them what the blood draw was for, and they look at each other and say they'll have to look into that and tell me why. Exit doctors.

My nurse comes in about 30 minutes after that, just wants to tell me that ultrasound called, and they'll be up to take me to get my ultrasound this morning. I was told it was going to be Friday, but that's cool with me. I start getting ready, when the nurse comes in again and says that ultrasound made a mistake, and it's actually the 21st (the day I was told) and not today that's the aforementioned ultrasound. OK, that's cool with me too. Exit nurse.

This afternoon, my very nice doctor comes in to 'discuss labs' and sits down (this means somethings up). I just had a strep B screening done today, so obviously, I'm preparing to hear that I'm positive. No, it's about the blood draw. He's spent most of the day trying to figure out why exactly I got those labs done. He said it was to measure how the blood was coagulating, which is not a lab they would have ordered for me. Turns out, that ass crack of the morning blood draw was meant for my neighbor. He apologizes for the mix up, and says that he's going to make sure we aren't billed for the mistaken labs. I knew something was up this morning when the dude didn't check my bracelet until AFTER he'd taken my blood, and the doctors hadn't informed me of said blood draw. Hubby and I joked about him making a mistake and frantically rinsing out the vials before going in to the right patient. Little did we know we were on to something! The nurses will wake me up out of a dead sleep to do their 'security checks', which is reading my id number to the nurse on the next shift. Yes, it's still me, I haven't moved or been replaced by another person. But the guy that pokes me with a big needle doesn't think to check to make sure the name of the pokee is the same as the one on his little clipboard. Someone was off their game today, and is probably getting chewed out as I type. Oh well. A little blood lost, but no harm done. At least it wasn't something being administered that I don't need. Teaches me to be strict about who draws blood and ask why and insist on an id check.

53 days in.......53 days to go......eventful way to start the last half!

To everything...turn, turn, turn

It's amazing how adaptable humans can be. Taken out of their element for a length of time and the definition of 'normal' changes very quickly. My parents said that when I lived in South Africa as a child, it wasn't long before my siblings and I had picked up our own little accent. Moving and going on trips is like that for me too, it doesn't take long for it to feel so normal that it feels strange to think of anything else as being the status quo. I remember as a kid almost forgetting what it was like to feel well when I was sick, and vice versa. Pregnancy has the same effect. You get so used to feeling movements inside you, and navigating the world with a huge belly that when you finally give birth, it takes a while to get used to having your body to yourself again. There were times when I could swear I felt kicks after Judah was born....pretty trippy feeling. Staying at the hospital, sitting on my ass all day has become so 'normal' now too. The room, the nurses, the rituals, the boredom busting....everything is so common now. Although, every little reminder of the usual things I used to do while not on bedrest make me miss them and look forward to experiencing them again. Even, or maybe especially, the little things that kept my life humming with activity. The things that I took for granted because they were just 'normal' stuff. But instead of remembering all those things and pining after them, making my stay here that much more unbearable, I've purposed to allow it to give me a fresh appreciation for my life and the day to day things that happen in it. What also happens when I start appreciating the things I can't have again just yet, is that it forces me to think about the things that I know I'll miss and wish I'd appreciated about bedrest, and to appreciate them while I have the chance to. It's a refreshing way to look at what could be just a depressing, difficult time in my life. I'm scrapbooking for the first time in over 10 years, I knitted two teddy bears, I've read through more books the last 8 weeks than I have the last 3 years, and I have time to think and pray and study. Not to mention having a nurse right outside my door to calm my nerves, or get me fresh water whenever I want. And although the food gets really really old, it's nice to just call down for something when I feel hungry. I'm SO looking forward to being back home, and taking care of my boys and my house again, but I want to appreciate every stage of life, and find the joy in each day even the hard ones....... especially the hard ones.

New 'due' date

This morning, as is the usual morning ritual, my doctors (I have several) came in to check in on me and answer any questions I might have. I asked them about induction, if and when it would be something they would do, and if they would wait and let me go into labor naturally on my own if everything looked ok. They said induction is something that they would do if things started to worsen, but not enough to warrant a c-section. They said that if everything continued as it has the last 6 weeks, that they would let me go until 39 weeks, but that if I hadn't gone into labor on my own by then, that they would induce because the placenta at that stage would start to age and not operate as well. Usually that's not a problem, but with a placenta that's been under stress and operating (very well, considering) at about half capacity, they don't want me to continue with things getting more risky. I'm a very earthy/hippy girl when it comes to pregnancy and childbirth, so being in the hospital and facing an induction is miles away from where I'd like to be, but I agree with my doctors, and it makes sense to me. Sometimes the very best thing to do for your child isn't what you'd planned and had in mind. I know that the typical cons of induction can be overcome, and that the most important thing is that Ronan is delivered safely and at the right time. Despite all the drawbacks, I feel confident that the Lord will guide me and Ronan through labor and delivery.....just as caring and trustworthy as ever.

99 bottles of Maalox on the wall.....

This morning, as my husband changed the gestational age on the white board in my room from '30 4/7' to '30 5/7', I was happily reminded that Saturday is nearly here, and that means another full week closer to the big day. This little ritual is one of the first things that happens every morning, and if we forget a day, that just means it's even more satisfying to skip up to the next number, like we played hooky on a day here. What struck me this morning though, as I'm looking forward to replacing the '0' with a '1', is that come Saturday, I'll have the remainder of my time here in nice little 3 week increments. 3 weeks from Saturday and I'll be at 34 weeks...the benchmark the doctors set as when they think I could safely deliver...3 weeks after that and I'm at 37 weeks, the benchmark of being considered full term...and another 3 weeks after that and I'm at 40 weeks, which is my due date. I like this little layout, because seeing '31' on my makeshift calendar can be just as daunting as when I was first admitted and '24' was written in the blue ink of a dried out marker. But instead of looking down the corridor of time and seeing 9 weeks stretched out before me, I can just peek around the corner and see each benchmark a short 3 weeks or less away from where I'm standing (make that sitting). It definitely makes my time here seem more bearable, and each week seem like much more of an accomplishment. Like my hubby reminded me this morning, thinking I have a whole 9 weeks left is unrealistic, because there is so much that can happen within those weeks to change everything. One ultrasound, one monitering, one night of cramping, and I could be facing a delivery date that's a lot closer. Ofcourse we're all hoping that 9 weeks is what I end up spending here, but 3 weeks is a heck of a lot easier to swallow, and at the end of each 3 week chunk, I can look back and say 'that wasn't so bad' and tell myself doing it again is a piece of cake. And what I like most about it, is that is provides a nice sense of urgency, a renewed sense of purpose, inspiration to get my reading and crafts and studying and writing done, instead of just letting monotonous days stack up. I remember flying to Africa, and on the way thinking,' wow, I'm going to be back on a plane heading the other direction before I know it'....and sure enough, once I was headed home the 2 months I spent there seemed to have slipped by in the blink of an eye. It's comforting that these days spent here, while being burned into my memory, will become completely irrelevent and seem much smaller the moment I'm holding my son.

So, here's to the next 3 weeks!!

My story.

I'm a baby blogger, and kinda clueless as to how to go about the blogosphere, and to top it all off, writing isn't really my strong point, so you'll have to bear with me. I'm assuming that bloggers often tell their story about who they are/why they started a blog/how they got here. So here's mine. (I'll only share the relevant stuff to save me time and you boredom:)

I am pregnant with my second son. I have a beautiful 3 year old named Judah, and two little sparrows in heaven.

At the beginning of this pregnancy, I went in to the ER after thinking I was miscarrying. To my great relief, we saw his little heart still beating, and his little legs still kicking! My placenta was covering my cervix, so they sent me home to stay on bedrest until it moved. After 4 weeks of bedrest, we did an ultrasound and the placenta had moved up! It grows with the uterus, and can even migrate on it's own upwards towards better blood supply. I took it really easy for another two weeks, and was slowly starting to get my activity level back to 'normal.' I celebrated my hubby's and my birthdays, and enjoyed being able to walk around and actually do chores!

Then, on March 25th (23 weeks, 5 days preggo), my hubby and I decided to drive down to try a new restaurant I'd found that serves street food done up all nicely and elephant ears for dessert! My type of place:) But as we got out of the car, I thought I felt something like my water breaking, so we called my midwife and she suggested going to the ER, and we just happened to be near the hospital with the best NICU in the state. So, we grabbed some Dick's burgers cause we were starving, and drove our asses to the ER. I got all checked out and they said they didn't think it was my water breaking, and that I had a very large clot obstructing about half of my placenta. They wanted to keep me overnight. The next morning, they said that they wanted to keep me another 2 weeks and see what happens with the clot. I met with the neonatologists, and learned all about what would happen if they had to deliver preterm. So, 2 weeks went by very uneventfully, and we met again with the doctors after having another ultrasound, and they said that although the clot looked stable, they still wanted to keep me here another few weeks. That night I started bleeding, so I was quite happy to be safe in the hospital. The docs said that when they admit a pregnant lady after she's had a 'bleed' and she bleeds again, then they keep her until delivery. So, that's where I am, just collecting days until Ronan makes his appearance. 34 weeks, and he can be safely delivered, with minimal time in the NICU, and at 37 weeks he's considered 'full term'. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I feel confident that he'll be born safely into my arms...