Ann's story (part 5)
9th birth - Planned a UC, but transported to hospitalSaturday, December 12, 1998, I was lying in bed at 7:00 a.m., trying to squeeze a few extra minutes of sleep, when I heard and felt a funny little POP! I figured my water had broken. I was afraid to get out of bed. I'd never had my water break before the onset of active labor before. And I wasn't expecting the baby, yet. This was my due date, after all, and I'm NEVER on time! Well, when I did get up and go into the bathroom, there was a definite extra gush of water, nice and clear, and I knew this was it. We were planning our second UC, and the timing seemed great, a Saturday, and my husband home for the weekend.
However, "it" progressed at the rate of MAYBE one contraction an hour for the next 33 hours. Once in a great while, I'd have two or three in an hour's time, but never more. They were strong, but not painful. I wasn't worried about the water breaking early, and several of my labors have started very slowly and dragged as long as four days, but there is usually a bit more activity than this.
When labor finally got going, around 4:00 Sunday afternoon, it progressed very fast. I had back labor, so figured I had a posterior baby, or at least an odd position, which isn't unusual for me. In addition, I had a pain across my c-section scar. Neither pain stopped between contractions. I got into the bathtub, but I couldn't get the water deep enough to really help. When I got out, I wanted to get into my big tee shirt I always birth in, but I couldn't even manage that. I threw a towel around me and practically crawled to my room, and when my husband showed up, he had to help me get into my shirt.
I began needing to push, and pushed for about an hour, but it didn't seem as if any progress was being made. I couldn't feel the baby moving down at all. The pain was bad, and I was getting panicky. I wanted pain relief. Then we started seeing some blood, and that sort of scared my husband. I figured it was normal for there to be some, and it didn't look like that much to me, but it did sort of dribble with each contraction. Later I found out that was pretty normal, but we weren't sure at the time. I really kind of played that up, I'm afraid, trying to get my husband to take me to the hospital. I actually wanted him to call 911, and have an ambulance come to my door and give me a nice shot, and put me out of my misery. I was in a bad mental state. He had also seen some meconium, although he hadn't mentioned it to me, and I hadn't seen it myself. He got our son to drive us to the hospital. I knew as soon as they started helping me out to the car that this wasn't what I really wanted, except the thought of pain meds was very appealing. I was praying the baby would come in the car and it would be over.
But we got to the hospital, went to L&D, and when they saw that I was fully dilated and pushing, wouldn't give me anything for the pain! I pushed about another hour, in an awful position, in stirrups and half reclined. I had a horrible cramp in my right hip, which I always have during labor, and that position allowed no relief, but aggravated the pain. The baby kept coming down and then going back up, and they used a vacuum extractor that wouldn't work properly (Praise the Lord, as I found out later how risky their use is! I saw a 20/20 show just a week or so later, and was horrified), and the doctor kept mumbling about how he couldn't figure out why the baby didn't just drop right out. I was tempted to suggest that maybe if they'd let me stand up, he would, but I was sort of in the frame of mind that I'd come crawling in looking for help, and now had no right to express any opinions.
The baby was turned in a funny position, but the doctor didn't seem to think that should be keeping him from coming down. There was a lot of meconium, but the baby was never in any distress. He never had any decels. They suctioned him on the perineum just with a bulb. I got sick of their telling me not to push and did it anyway, and the rest of him plopped out. Then they took him over and used a machine, but they only got a very little bit of cloudy fluid from him. The cord was wrapped around his body a couple of times, but no one acted as if that was the problem, either.
The Lord was really there for me, because as soon as they found out I'd had c-sections before, they could have sent me in for another. Not only did He save me from that, but He didn't even allow me to be cut with an episiotomy! I'm so in awe of that! Also, once it was over, I was so glad, of course, that I hadn't gotten any pain meds. Because of how long my water had been broken, they put an antibiotic in an IV, and I did get some pit to deliver the placenta. No one asked. They just did it. The doctor asked how long it usually takes for my placenta to come, and my husband said something like twenty minutes. "That's a long time," the doc said. Sure it would be, if you weren't sitting happily in your own home, cuddling your own baby at the time, but rather were in a cold, sterile room, in a hurry to get on to other business. Then twenty minutes probably seems like a lifetime!
The worst of it all, unfortunately, is everything that happened after to my little son. Since my water had been broken so long, they insisted on keeping him in the special care nursery for two days and putting a tube in his tummy for antibiotic treatment in case he had an infection. He had so many poke holes in him from blood tests. I feel really bad about that. I didn't get to nurse him for four hours, but after that we were able to do well. The nurses were very nice. Word got around that we didn't have insurance, so they were making efforts to cut costs for us. Only, it wasn't true. We did have insurance! I found that rather odd, but really a blessing. Maybe they would have been more inclined to section me if they had known we could well afford it.
I'm horrified to think how easily I could have gotten sectioned, and that I thought I didn't care at the time. But I would have been in the very depths of despair afterwards if I had.The Lord was faithful even when I wasn't. Some things had happened in our families during the last year that had made me have a lot of fear, and I wasn't trusting the Lord at all the way I should have been. I wasn't prepared spiritually for the battle, and I think the Lord had to deal with some pride in me, as well. Please, don't misunderstand this. I do NOT believe that we have to be in some sort of perfect spiritual condition in order for the Lord to "reward" us with an uncomplicated UC. I just really know I was not turning to Him or even trying very hard to trust when the going got rough. I sincerely pray that this story does not discourage anyone from having a UC, because I'd have another in a minute. I don't have any way of knowing how things would have turned out if I'd stayed home. I feel in my heart that all would have been fine. My husband is less sure and doesn't have the regrets I do. But I know he'll go for UC again, too, if we're so blessed.
I also wonder a lot about the spiritual element of going into the hospital. I mean, the moment I hit those "hallowed halls" I became a ranting lunatic. I behaved abominably. I'm sure I didn't do anything much for giving UC'ers a positive image. The nurses were kind when they said I did "fine". I never behave like that, even during the worst part of labor, at home. It was like surrendering control at the door. I found it very unsettling to look back on, and even felt like an idiot while it was going on. Maybe I'm just trying to place the blame other than squarely on my own shoulders, but it seems weird to me.
It is hard to deal with the disappointment. I was depressed and cried for two weeks. Most people felt I should be grateful that I had my healthy baby boy, and not be concerned about where or how he was born, and of course, I am completely grateful for him. He is wonderfully precious, and I feel extremely close to him. Finally I wrote out what I was thinking and why I was so upset and gave it to my husband and three oldest children. That helped a lot. It especially helped to tell my husband how I felt, and to know that he felt okay about the transfer. I felt particularly bad because I had raised so many issues to keep my husband from considering taking me to the hospital when we had our FIRST UC (modesty, drugs, risk of being sectioned, dangers, etc.), but when it came to MY fears and pain, all my supposed convictions went out the window. Very humbling.
I am praying that the Lord, in His graciousness, will allow me one more chance to trust Him through labor and birth. I know at the age of almost 47, it would be a very special blessing to have another child, and I am trusting that He knows what would be best for me and my family. I don't want to want another baby just so "the story ends the right way." So, since I can't really trust my own motives, I must trust that He will only give me another chance if it is because that's the way He wants the story to go.
My special Andrew Paul Kuenning, 9th child, 6th son, was born December 13, 1998, at 8:07p.m., weighing 7 lbs. 14 oz.