| Samuel's Birth |
| The 18 months leading to his conception were a nightmare, but we were finally pregnant. Two days after we asked some friends from church to pray for healing with us, I got a positive pregnancy test yet again. My due date was March 9, 2001 (you know, after being due in March 2 years in a row, )when preventing pregnancy, I'm awfully careful in the month of June!). I knew from the beginning that this pregnancy was different. Yes, I had my moments of fear or doubt, but for the most part, I just knew in my heart that I would carry this baby to term. He was my Samuel: "for this child I prayed and the Lord has given me my petition" was my mantra through the tough times. The times I doubted whether I would be able to carry him to term, I paid for it in spades. Once, after two days of feeling totally un-pregnant, I went grocery shopping. My eye caught this nasty orangish stuff in the Mayo section called "sandwich spread" and I seriously thought I was going to vomit all over the Wal-Mart floor! I never did finish the shopping!! Yep, definitely pregnant and so glad of it! At my second prenatal appointment, I was 9 weeks pregnant and we tried to hear the heartbeat. I knew it was early yet and didn't really expect to be successful, but it came through loud and clear! Thank you Lord! At 12 weeks, 4 days, we had a sonogram. This was before I knew the risks involved with prolonged fetal exposure to ultrasound technology, and I just wanted to see my baby. He was there, all right, although we didn't know yet that he was indeed a he. He waved at us! Oh, what an amazing experience to hear and see a life growing, to know that his future and ours would be forever entwined. I will never forget that day. I still remember exactly what I was wearing! Although I knew when the baby had been conceived (when you're trying, nothing like that is a secret!), he was measuring big. The ultrasound estimated my due date to be Feb. 28. Despite my arguments to the contrary, my doctor altered my due date in his records. This concerned me greatly because I didn't want to be induced for going after that date. It was the wrong date and that could mean a premature induction! But I just silently resolved to refuse induction before March 9, at the earliest, and trudged on through the pregnancy. We enrolled in Bradly classes, ever the eager parents and started them at 17 weeks (the usual start date is somwhere around 24 weeks, and that still finishes a month before your due date!). At 25 weeks, we were told to prepare a birth plan. I had a prenatal appointment that week, so we decided to bring up a few points with my doctor. I found myself feeling very rushed, as usual, so I brought up the absolute most important items only: freedom of movement during labor, no internal monitering unless absolutely necessary, and no IV unless necessary. My doctor looked at me like I was a 2 headed beast and proceeded to explain that in 25 years, he'd never seen a woman want to walk during labor, that I was so "thick" I should be prepared for an internal monitor because the external wouldn't pick up, and that an IV is safer than a hep lock because it reduces the risk of some rare disease that might cause me to die. The only item of the three that he reluctantly agreed to was the hep lock. It was clear that if I wanted a natural birth, something would have to change. Two days later, it dawned on my husband what had happened. He looked at me and said "did he call you 'thick'?! You're a size 12!" Sheesh...Men! What I had truly wanted from the beginning was a homebirth with a midwife. I was prepared to pay the fees, but when I inquired about it with TriCare, they told me that in the event of a hospital transport, I would have to pay a 50% co-pay and $500 deductable. Despite my desire for a homebirth, I didn't feel we could risk the amount of debt that situation might result in. I've since found that simply by changing my status with TriCare from Prime to Standard, I could have avoided the whole situation. You know what they say about hindsight... Anyway, so this left me looking for a different doctor. One who didn't think I was fat, preferably! I discovered that there were only three doctors in town who delivered at the hospital I wanted and were not in the evil guy's on-call group. So I made an appointment with one of them, figuring he had to be better than the last one! At 32 weeks, I had my first appointment with my new favorite doctor. He didn't think I was crazy (or fat!) and loved having informed patients. I could have kissed him! After some housekeeping that needed to be taken care of, I left feeling so at ease with the situation that it was another 4 weeks before I even brought my birth plan in. When I did, he highlighted and initialed it and had it sent to the hospital with my other records! I could have kissed him again!! At 34 weeks, we had another sonogram, which revealed a very big baby (measuring full term and 7-8 pounds!!!), and a pair of testicles (we have pictures). I had known all along that this was my Samuel, but now medical technology had confirmed it. So now we were just waiting...and waiting...and waiting. I was so ready to have this baby!! I had gained a total of 45 pounds, cleaned the entire house, stocked the freezer with food, and walked mile upon mile upon mile. Supposedly having sex can start labor, but I can't vouch for that one. I wanted him to come out, but wasn't up for that. Finally, on Friday, March 2, my water broke. And boy, did it ever BREAK! When the nurse asked if I was sure, I revealed my pants, which were soaking wet. I was admitted, checked for dialation, effacement and station, and told to wait while they called my doctor. A few minutes later, she told me that the doctor wasn't comfortable with me walking because my baby wasn't fully engaged (his head was too high and they were afraid the cord might slip out underneath his head, called a cord prolapse, a true obstetrical emergency). Okay, well, so much for walking during labor. I sat in bed and waited for the contractions to start, but my adreneline was pumping and I knew it was working to stall my labor. Finally, 7 hours after my water broke, the doctor made the call to induce me. He ordered the pitocin started very slowly so that I could labor as naturally as possible. By 11am, I thought I was dying! I was squatting through the contractions, trying to get him to decend, but I was making no progess in the dialation department. I tried to relax through the contractions but never knew what to expect from the next one. Unlike what I'm told about normal contractions, mine were never consistent. One would be short and easy, the next long and intense. It was the long and intense ones I dreaded. And let's face it, when the word dread enters your labor vocabulary, things aren't going very well. The idea is to break the fear-tension-pain cycle and I just couldn't do it. Finally, at 3pm, after 12 hours of induced labor, and 30+ hours with no sleep, I tearfully opted for an epidural. I didn't want my baby to be drugged, but I was so tired I feared someone might decide to do a c-section because of maternal exhaustion. For two hours, my body labored on while I slept through it, oblivious to the contractions. But soon, they were back again. I couldn't move, but OH, could I feel those suckers!! All along, laboring on my back or side had been the absolute worst, but now I was stuck in this position. I woke my husband up and demanded that he DO SOMETHING! What I expected, I don't know. I didn't expect him to tell the nurse to stop the drugs since they were doing no good, but he did. I cried because for some reason I thought it would be worse after there were no drugs. It wasn't. Actually, I regained some mobility and it was nice! Somehow, we survived the next three hours until I was 10cm dialated and ready to push. I never had the classic "urge" to push. I just got so fed up that I had to do something different, so push it was. |
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