I have been meaning to document Kalena's birth story for a while now, but it's taken me much longer than I intended. Nevertheless, here it is, finally. It's a bit of a long read, and more for my own reflection than anything, but if there's anyone out there who's interested, enjoy!
Birth is sooooo interesting…
Although, “interesting” isn’t the word I would have used as
I had frequent contractions for 2 days before my little sweet little Lena
entered the outside world. Already she was showing us that she is a little
princess and sometimes, princesses make people wait so they can make a grand
entrance.
I had a doctor’s appointment on my due date, which was March
14th, a Wednesday. At that point, I was ready for her arrival and I
did ask my Dr to strip my membranes, although I was hardly dilated. Nothing felt much different, but that
evening I had a few preliminary contractions.
Thursday evening, we had dinner at my parents’ house and I
was having contractions all through the evening. Nothing that I had to hold my
breath for or anything, but uncomfortable and steady enough that I started
thinking, “This could be the night!”
I didn’t share these thoughts with anyone (except Mitch, of course), just in
case I was wrong.
It wasn’t the night, though, and they subsided enough to let
me get some sleep. I was awaken around 4:30 am (this is now Friday morning) by
contractions that were strong enough to wake me up and keep me up. I thought,
“Surely, today is the day!” My contractions were steady but erratic.
I downloaded a contraction tracking app on my iPhone. (Yes,
there IS an app for that) I would have contractions that were 5 min apart then
3 min apart then 7 min apart and so on, you get the point. I’m not sure what it
is with my body, but my contractions were erratic like that up until the moment
I delivered Kalena. But we’re not to THAT point of the story yet… we’ve got a
ways to go.
ALL DAY LONG on Friday my contractions continued on
erratically and several were strong enough that I had to stop whatever I was
doing and breathe through them, but I never felt that it was time to high tail
it in to RUH. I did lose my plug, but my water never broke. I think I went for
about 4 long walks off of the farmyard and down the road. Far enough to get
those contractions really close together (often 2 min. apart) but not so far as
I could get myself in a troubling situation. Poor Mitch got nothing done that
day either. He accompanied me on most of my walks and patiently endured me
analyzing my body’s actions/reactions. Jett played over at Papa and Mammie
Schultz’s for most of the day. I am so thankful that we have family close by.
By evening, I was frustrated that my body seemed to be stuck
in a rut, but I still didn’t feel like it was time to go in to the hospital. I
was exhausted from a full day of contractions and tracking those stupid
contractions, but I couldn’t relax enough to sleep well. I must have dozed off
sometime around the middle of the night, because around 2:30am I was woken up
by contractions that had changed to a new degree of intensity. There would be no more rest! I started
timing them again and analyzing. They were, again, erratic, but very frequently
around 3 min apart. I woke Mitch up, told him I was pretty sure that it was
ACTUALLY now the time to go in, and we called my mother in law to come to our
house to be with Jett.
I think it was around 4am when we drove in to RUH. I was
quickly admitted and checked by a resident. I was, at that point 4-5 cm dilated
and relieved to finally be moving forward with this birth! The first nurse we
had was an incredibly short British woman, likely in her 60’s. Those of you who
watch NCIS Los Angeles will appreciate this, but both Mitch and I agreed she
reminded us of Hettie, the director on the show. We got a kick out of her
no-nonsense attitude that paralleled that of one of our favourite TV
personalities. We liked her.
It didn’t take long before we were moved into a private
birthing room, and had I known then how much time we would be spending there, I
would have brought some decorations or something to make us feel more at home
as I continued to labour another FULL DAY.
Around 7am, a resident came and broke my water. I don’t know
if it was necessary, or not, but I believe the reason was to simply get things
moving, of which I was all for. We learned that we had another little pooper on
our hands as they did find myconium in the fluid, but not nearly to the degree
that had been found in the fluid when Jett was born. It just means that NICU
staff is called in to be in the room during the actual delivery so they can
check the baby immediately after birth and ensure that no myconium was
ingested.
I find the whole “water breaking” part of birth rather
disgusting. Maybe if I would have a child who doesn’t poop in utero it would be
different, but I doubt it. I’ve actually been thankful that my water hasn’t
broken at home either time so that I haven’t had to clean it up myself!
We texted our families at around this point of the day,
because we thought that for sure we would have our daughter in our arms
mid-morning, and we knew they’d all want to be in the loop. We didn’t realize that
it was a cruel joke at the time and that the rest of their day would be spent
on pins and needles waiting for “the call”. (Poor them!)
Our nurse, “Hettie,” left us at 7:30 when there was a shift
change and we got a new and younger nurse who we had for the rest of the day.
We liked her too, even though she didn’t remind us of any TV characters.
My desire for this birth was to have a vaginal delivery (Jett
was a C-section) without the epidural, if at all possible. I wasn’t about to
play the martyr if I needed relief, but I had been so sick for the whole day
after Jett was born. So, if I could do it without, that was my preferred
choice. I was labeled a TOLAC- Trial Of Labour After Caesarian. This meant that
I had to be hooked up to the machine that monitored contractions alongside
baby’s heartbeat to ensure that my little girl wasn’t too stressed. It also
meant that I was MUCH less mobile as I was labouring. I did not want to be
stuck on my back for the duration, so they did allow me to bounce on a ball beside
the bed, which I did… for a couple hours, anyway.
I had been hooked up to the same machine during my labour
with Jett after they saw how severely discoloured my fluid was. It was that
machine that showed how my little boy’s heart was having more and more
difficulty recovering after contractions and ultimately led to the decision to
go ahead with the C-Section…. That, and the fact that I was not progressing!
That machine and I have a love/hate relationship, but I AM
thankful for healthy babies.
Kalena was a trooper. Her heart rate would drop during
contractions (totally normal) and she would recover quickly each time, like the
champ that she is.
It was mid morning when the nurses sent the anesthesiologist
in to talk with me. I had been sensing that each time I turned down the
epidural, the nurses were not agreeing with my decision. I’m glad they didn’t
push me, but when they sent the anesthesiologist in, I was leary. He did make
some good points, however. He explained that because I had a Caesarian previously,
I had a much greater chance of having a second one (which I knew). If there
were any red flags that popped up during labour and I had to have a Caesarian,
having an epidural in place means that the procedure can be carried out quickly
and easily. If I were to be wheeled in for a Caesarian without having had an
epidural, they would put a tube down my throat to put me “out,” which is
apparently a riskier procedure.
The anesthesiologist asked me what my reasons for not
wanting an epidural were, and I explained how I had been very sick after having
Jett, and I wasn’t able to nurse him for a few hours after he was born. I don’t
know if my nursing issues with him can be solely attributed to that, but if I
could have a different experience this time around, that was my goal. He went on to inform me that it was
highly unlikely that I was sick from the epidural, but more likely the Morphine
that I had been on. Morphine!???! Truthfully, that was the first time I had
been made aware that I was even on morphine! Anyway, I was thankful that the
anesthesiologist didn’t actually push me to get the epidural, he just gave me
some things to think about, and then let me be.
It wasn’t long after that though, that I was checked and was
found to have made very little progress with my continuing erratic
contractions. The Dr wanted to put me on an oxytocin IV drip to help push
things along and hopefully regulate my contractions. I had been put on that
same IV during my labour with Jett before I had the epidural, so I knew from
experience how it would bring the intensity of contractions to a whole new
level.
That was when I decided to go ahead with the epidural. Remember,
I had been having frequent contractions for about a day and a half (36 hours or
so) at this point. It was around 11am and they administered the oxytocin right
around the time I got my epidural.We thought, surely this would spring my
cervix into action! Nope.
My contractions were no less erratic, but the intensity was
greater. We could gauge each contraction on the machine I was hooked up to. The
epidural started working fairly quickly, but it was much different than what I
had experienced with Jett. With him, the epidural took away all the pain, so I
really felt nothing. I remember asking, “Was that a contraction?” and having to
refer to the machine to see if I was right or not. This time, the epidural took
some pain away, but did nothing for the extreme pressure I would feel against
my pelvis/groin area every time my uterus contracted. There was no wondering
“if” I was having a contraction; I still had to breathe through them as I had
been before.
We carried on throughout the afternoon, monitoring
contractions alongside baby’s heart rate, waiting for a resident or doctor to
come and check me periodically. Progress was slow but with the pressure I felt
in my nether-regions, sleep was not to be had.
I think it was shortly after 5pm that I started feeling this
sensation, which grew into an overwhelming urge that I felt I should be
pushing. I shared this with my attending nurse, who told me to just hang on
until the resident could come check to ensure I was fully dilated. “Just hang
on..”- NOT the words I wanted to hear! But that’s what I did, for at least an
hour and a half.
I kept asking where the resident was, but apparently there
were several other babies being born at that time and I was not at the top of
their urgent list. The word that comes to mind even now as I reflect on that
time when I felt everything inside of me trying to force my baby into day light
and I fought against that urge to keep her inside is… TORTURE! I actually
started to feel resentment as I heard other babies give their first cry from
down the hall. Hands down, that hour and a half or so was the worst part of my
entire birth experience.
After holding back for what felt like an eternity, I told my
nurse (again) that I really needed to push. She told me she’d go check and see
if the resident was soon coming. When she came back, she informed me that there
were still around 5 people ahead of me on the priority list.
Now, I had managed to stay pretty composed and polite during
this entire process (maybe THAT is why I wasn’t made a priority) but that was
my breaking point. I’m pretty sure my eyes were filled with tears and my body
shook as I yelled, “Are you kidding me?!!! We’ve been here ALL day!!!!!”
She gave me a funny look and I think she finally realized
that I was serious. She led me to lay down in position and said I could start
some small “grunt” pushes. I think she thought these pushes would pacify my
urge and that nothing significant would come of it because she seemed surprised
(and a little worried) when, after two or three contractions, my baby girl’s
head was emerging.
Very quickly, the NICU staff were called and I was finally
given the green light to really push. THIS was the best part of the day. Mitch
told me later that he had never seen someone’s face get so red. I think it was
at most 20 minutes before my sweet girl was out and handed over to the NICU
nurses. The resident only made it there at the end, for the last couple of
pushes. I wonder if I jumped the priority list….
Kalena (pronounced Ka-lay-na) Jane Schultz was born at
7:28pm, March 17th, 2012. Our very own St Patty’s Day baby.
As soon as Kalena was out, the rest of that time felt like a
blur. I could see the NICU nurses working with my little girl while the Dr and
resident were doing what they do and stitching me up. They had to suction
mucus/fluid from K’s little body at least 4 times. The nurse told Mitch he
could go stand over there to be near her while the NICU nurses worked, but just
then one of them called out that he should stay put. They had to resuscitate
Kalena while I watched helplessly from across the room. Thankfully she was
fine.
I’m not sure how long the process took because it really is
a haze, but finally I was able to hold my sweet girl and shortly thereafter
able to feed her. I did throw up one time, but I wasn’t sick at all like I had
been after my Section with Jett. I think it was just adrenaline after finally completing
an incredibly long process that caused it.
When our heads had cleared enough, we called our families so
that they could stop waiting and likely worrying. My parents and siblings
rushed over to meet Kalena before we were moved up to the Post Partum ward (we
didn’t get the Victorian Suite, but we did get a private room facing the river)
where visiting hours were ending. Mitch’s parents weren’t able to come until
the next day, Sunday, because Jett was already sleeping. When they did bring
Jett the next day, we were all curious about what he would think of his new
little sister. He was apprehensive about her presence at first, but warmed up
to her; wanting to kiss and hold her.
Yay!!! In spite of the eternity that was this birth process,
I am thrilled to have had Kalena without a C-section. I am SO thankful for a healthy baby girl. Nursing has been
MUCH better, dare I say, “easy,” this time around. Jett seems to genuinely like
his little sister. All in all, not bad…. pretty good, actually.
Will we do this again? Time will tell… we’re not committing
either way.
