Did I really forget to talk about my pre-cesarean sacraments?
Not only did I want to be physically prepared for my fifth cesarean, I wanted to be spiritually prepared. Our pastor, Monsignor, administered the Anointing of the Sick, in preparation for surgery. The day before Maria's birth, Jeremy and I dropped four of our children off with his parents. We went out for supper and then went to a very late daily Mass--10:00--and were early so that I could go to confession as well. With my soul clean and prepared for any possibility, we were ready to welcome our fifth child, our third daughter, first thing in the morning.
How do you get ready?
Showing posts with label Cesarean. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cesarean. Show all posts
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Cesarean Advice
 |
| February 19, 2010: Cesarean #5, Maria Catherine |
I have had five cesarean deliveries; I have only ever given birth via cesarean section. It began with Morgan, who went into distress after many hours of labor. My family practice doctor went for a second opinion when, with each contraction, one minute apart, Morgan's heart rate slowed down to a very scary point. The second opinion said that she needed to come out NOW. She did, and via cesarean, we delivered a healthy baby girl. We became pregnant with Madeleine when Morgan was four-five months old and were told that a VBAC was unsafe, for many reasons I won't go into here. VBACs are controversial and we believe our decision to deliver via cesarean to be the best decision for Madeleine and me (so no comments will be allowed that disagree with our decision).
That said, what would I recommend for someone who knows they're heading for a cesarean?
1. TAKE THE PAINKILLERS. KEEP TAKING THE PAIN KILLERS. DO NOT STOP. Tell your nurse if you need more. It doesn't make you a drug addict. You won't want to look back at the first few days of your baby's life and see it through a haze of pain. A cesarean delivery hurts. There is medicine that will make you more comfortable. You don't have to tough it out.
2. You can keep your baby with you after delivery, if there are enough nurses. Just ask.
3. Do follow the advice of the nurses, but get out of bed only when you feel ready. If you do not feel ready, simply tell them no, I will do it later. Then do it later.
4. Allow the staff to help you out of bed and into a chair, and have someone support you when walking for the first time after surgery. Take your time! You're not going to be able to walk well for a couple of days.
5. Do rest, rest, rest. Even when you feel well, REST. When you're tempted to get up to get something for yourself, resist the urge. Ask your husband or helper to do it for you. It'll pay off later.
6. When you think you are feeling well enough, you might overdo the physical activity. SIT DOWN.
7. Plan for a good 12 weeks to get back to normal.
8. For the first 6 weeks after birth, I always woke up feeling like I got hit by a Mack truck. Keep up on the ibuprofen and take the painkillers at home. All my babies survived breastfeeding with me on painkillers and are remarkably healthy! After 6 weeks, although slightly sore, I began to feel much better.
9. Backtrack: During surgery, if you begin to feel nauseated, tell the anesthesiologist right away. He can give you something that will keep you from vomiting and will make you feel better. Dry heaving during surgery is not a fun thing.
10. Do not freak out when you see your incision after surgery. It's very, very ugly for a long time. It gets less noticeable, I promise. The ugly bruises go away within a week and the scar will fade to pink, then white.
11. If you have pain in your shoulder afterward, or under your ribs, you may have a small pocket of air stuck in your abdomen. It is important to tell the nurse, you will need extra painkillers, but it does happen (twice to me) and it does resolve itself without intervention. However, your nurse needs to know so that they can ruld out a blood clot.
12. Look out for Postpartum Depression, especially if the cesarean was unexpected.
13. Afterward, get a few pairs of granny underpants, the kind that come up waaaaay past the incision site. Do not allow things to rub the incision site; it will hurt, even a few months later.
14. Some doctors tell their patients that they can only have 2 cesareans. Hogwash. I've got the maternal-fetal specialist in our area, and after 5 cesareans, we're still good to go, should God bless us with another child. It is extremely rare that a woman can have only 2 cesareans.
15. Visit Morgan's blog, Adventures in Diapering and Beyond.
16. Want to know what to expect, play by play? See THIS post that I wrote after Maria's birth.
Have you had a cesarean and have advice to offer? Leave a comment!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Recovery
I've decided not to post many details about this cesarean recovery. Madeleine's cesarean (#2) still wins the award for quickest, best recovery. This one is down there on the list. Initially, I thought it would go well, as I didn't cry for Morphine after Day 2. Even with air trapped in my abdomen and the incision's trouble knitting, I felt pretty good. But I went into this cesarean with a cold with a deep cough and that's hard on a fresh incision. That cold went away and then I got another cold. Then pinched nerves and vertigo with cookie tossing (related to the way I sit when nursing, not having a cesarean). So you see, the story of this recovery would read more like a pity party with painkillers than a positive tale.
Just know, if you are looking toward a cesarean or looking to hear that a repeat cesarean won't kill you, it won't. You will come through it alive and you will still be alive three weeks later even though sleep is scarce and the Percocet is gone.
And I'd be happy to do it again!
Just know, if you are looking toward a cesarean or looking to hear that a repeat cesarean won't kill you, it won't. You will come through it alive and you will still be alive three weeks later even though sleep is scarce and the Percocet is gone.
And I'd be happy to do it again!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Maria's Birth
Maria's story: this is birth as I know it!
Anticipating Maria's birth was both scary and exciting. Maria is my fifth child, my fifth cesarean. There were many things to be eager for: the first sight of our beloved child, first cries and cuddles. There were also many things to be frightened of: post-op pain, a complication in surgery or after, overall recovery, and the safety of future pregnancies.
Our family doctor--Dr. M--provides OB care and then the maternal-fetal specialist in our city--Dr. K--performs the actual cesarean (Dr. M is present at delivery, multi-tasking as my doctor and Baby's doctor). The combination of these two men is very comforting for me. Both are practicing Catholics with large families. I mention this because they understand and support our use of Natural Family Planning (no birth control, no sterilization) and they see each baby as a person with the right to life from the moment of its conception. We are blessed to have many pro-life doctors in our city and many doctors who have an NFP only practice.
::
We arrive at the hospital at 5:30, 2 hours before surgery is scheduled. We check in and are taken to a labor and delivery room. The nurse comes in, introduces herself, and hooks me up to fetal monitors and the lovely sound of our baby's heartbeat fills the room. The phlebotomist comes in for blood draws. The nurse prepares my body for surgery--an IV, shaving, etc. I sign waivers and releases and other papers. Jeremy signs a paper promising that he will sit quietly in the Operating Room, do what he is told, and won't try to help with nor interfere with surgery. It is quiet and we watch dawn gradually overtake night outside. Snow is falling! What a pretty morning to have a baby.
The anesthesiologist comes in to visit with me and talk about what to do. I asked Dr. M to come to our room early, just to humor me and to help my nerves. He is a comfort to me, so it is good when he arrives and sits down to visit with us about 1/2 hour before surgery. When he has been there for a few minutes, the nurse comes in and says, "Let's go have a baby!"
It's 7:15 a.m. I make one last trip to the bathroom and gather up my IV cords and pole and the nurse drapes a blanket over my back so I don't have to close my gown. We walk across the hall to the operating room. There are already four people in the room. The addition of Jeremy, me, and the nurse makes seven. An intern arrives and introduces himself. The anesthesiologist comes in (we're up to 9 now, including a couple of students) and begins setting up. The nursery nurse comes to introduce herself and says, "You look familiar. Have I delivered with you before?" She has a mask on, so I don't recognize her. Then I glance at her name badge and realize that she's a member of our parish and the mother-in-law of a good friend. I tell her this and am glad she's there.
My nurse's phone rings. It is Dr. K (the surgeon) calling to say that he is in house, which means that the anesthesiologist can begin working his magic. I'm a little nervous and I shed a few tears. Jeremy is across the room and the won't let him come over to me yet. The nurse supports me and I can feel the anesthesiologist's fingers along my spine, finding the right place to begin the spinal. He begins and it's not too bad, the poking, but then he hits a nerve and fire shoots down my left side and through my leg. I jump and exclaim, but it is gone as quickly as it came. He explains what happened and continues to work. We talk about what I think the baby will look like. I say that as long as she comes out with hair, I'll be happy.
Before I know it, there are 3 more people in the operating room, my gown has been removed, my feet are going numb, I feel warm all over, and the nurses are working on putting a catheter in. I feel a little humiliated, as there are now at least 12 people in the room and I'm the only one without clothing. My arms are stretched out in a T and there's a lot of motion in the room. Jeremy is allowed to come over and sit behind me holding my hand. It feels good to have him nearby and although I'd really like to have him closer, an arms length is better than nothing.
It's 7:30 a.m. Dr. K comes in and Dr. M is there. Everyone is cheerful and Dr. K says he's ready for a birthday party. I call him over to me and remind him that the previous cesareans have left me with pain on my inner left side which took months to become bearable. He nods and says that he'll watch carefully. The curtain goes up at my chest. The surgeons are standing at my hips but it feels like they're down at the other end of the room. The anesthesiologist tells me that I'm numb and that they're ready to get started. I say that I can feel Dr. K poking me but that it doesn't hurt. Is that normal? The doctors say it is and they begin working. I can feel--without pain--the first several steps of the surgery and I lay there thinking how weird it is. Soon I hear suction (that's the amniotic fluid) then they're tugging and pushing and tugging and then Dr. M pokes his head around the curtain, smiles, and says that Baby has a lot of hair. All of a sudden, I feel a great pulling sensation and then I feel very empty and I hear Maria cry. Jeremy and I are laughing and smiling and I squeeze his hand and tell him to go to her. It's 7:45 a.m.
Dr. M holds Maria up for me as he moves from the operating table to the warming table. He puts Maria down and begins to check her over. He and the nurses wipe her down. Someone moves the curtain so that I can see her and he holds her up again for me, then continues to work. I watch him tickle her to get her to cry. Although she's pink and had been crying, she calmed quickly and will squawk and then lay quietly, moving only a little. A nurse asks Dr. M what he guesses her weight to be. He says 7-3 and when she weighs in at 7 lbs, 2 oz, they applaud. Everyone laughs. When they are sure she's doing well, they wrap her up and hand her to Jeremy. He brings her to me and I kiss her warm face, smell her skin, and admire the full head of hair that she worked so hard on.
Dr. K leans around the curtain to tell me that he can see nothing on my left side that he thinks would cause the long-lasting discomfort and says that he's closing and will be done soon. Before I know it, the curtain comes down and the nurses are moving me from the table to a cart and into recovery. Dr. M says that he's going to take off and that he'll be back later or tomorrow morning. I nod and thank him. Dr. K says that everything looks good and that he'll check on me tomorrow.
Jeremy is holding Maria and follows me to the recovery room. She's crying, so Jeremy unwraps her and lays her on my chest. The nurses offer me water and I take oral Percocet. They push my abdomen (thank heaven that I'm still numb) and monitor my heart rate and blood pressure. As I get a little more comfortable, I tell Jeremy to go ahead and take Maria to the nursery for her bath and meet me in our room, as I should have only 10 more minutes in recovery. After he goes, the nurses call Dr. K back because my incision is bleeding on one side--not an emergency, but not a good thing, either. He puts 3 or 4 more staples in, tells them to ice it, and explains to me why this is happening. This keeps me in the recovery room for another half hour. Finally, they decide that I'm okay and wheel my cart to my room where Jeremy is anxiously waiting with the baby, wondering what took so long and a little worried.
It's 9:45 now. They move me to my bed and my new nurse comes to introduce herself, help me into a nursing bra and T-shirt, asks about my pain (I'm still numb) and is in and out watching me closely for the next couple of hours. I begin to nurse Maria, the champ who latches right away and knows just what to do. When we are settled, we pick up the phone to share our good news.
::
More later, for those moms who are wondering how recovery has progressed.
Anticipating Maria's birth was both scary and exciting. Maria is my fifth child, my fifth cesarean. There were many things to be eager for: the first sight of our beloved child, first cries and cuddles. There were also many things to be frightened of: post-op pain, a complication in surgery or after, overall recovery, and the safety of future pregnancies.
Our family doctor--Dr. M--provides OB care and then the maternal-fetal specialist in our city--Dr. K--performs the actual cesarean (Dr. M is present at delivery, multi-tasking as my doctor and Baby's doctor). The combination of these two men is very comforting for me. Both are practicing Catholics with large families. I mention this because they understand and support our use of Natural Family Planning (no birth control, no sterilization) and they see each baby as a person with the right to life from the moment of its conception. We are blessed to have many pro-life doctors in our city and many doctors who have an NFP only practice.
::
We arrive at the hospital at 5:30, 2 hours before surgery is scheduled. We check in and are taken to a labor and delivery room. The nurse comes in, introduces herself, and hooks me up to fetal monitors and the lovely sound of our baby's heartbeat fills the room. The phlebotomist comes in for blood draws. The nurse prepares my body for surgery--an IV, shaving, etc. I sign waivers and releases and other papers. Jeremy signs a paper promising that he will sit quietly in the Operating Room, do what he is told, and won't try to help with nor interfere with surgery. It is quiet and we watch dawn gradually overtake night outside. Snow is falling! What a pretty morning to have a baby.
The anesthesiologist comes in to visit with me and talk about what to do. I asked Dr. M to come to our room early, just to humor me and to help my nerves. He is a comfort to me, so it is good when he arrives and sits down to visit with us about 1/2 hour before surgery. When he has been there for a few minutes, the nurse comes in and says, "Let's go have a baby!"
It's 7:15 a.m. I make one last trip to the bathroom and gather up my IV cords and pole and the nurse drapes a blanket over my back so I don't have to close my gown. We walk across the hall to the operating room. There are already four people in the room. The addition of Jeremy, me, and the nurse makes seven. An intern arrives and introduces himself. The anesthesiologist comes in (we're up to 9 now, including a couple of students) and begins setting up. The nursery nurse comes to introduce herself and says, "You look familiar. Have I delivered with you before?" She has a mask on, so I don't recognize her. Then I glance at her name badge and realize that she's a member of our parish and the mother-in-law of a good friend. I tell her this and am glad she's there.
My nurse's phone rings. It is Dr. K (the surgeon) calling to say that he is in house, which means that the anesthesiologist can begin working his magic. I'm a little nervous and I shed a few tears. Jeremy is across the room and the won't let him come over to me yet. The nurse supports me and I can feel the anesthesiologist's fingers along my spine, finding the right place to begin the spinal. He begins and it's not too bad, the poking, but then he hits a nerve and fire shoots down my left side and through my leg. I jump and exclaim, but it is gone as quickly as it came. He explains what happened and continues to work. We talk about what I think the baby will look like. I say that as long as she comes out with hair, I'll be happy.
Before I know it, there are 3 more people in the operating room, my gown has been removed, my feet are going numb, I feel warm all over, and the nurses are working on putting a catheter in. I feel a little humiliated, as there are now at least 12 people in the room and I'm the only one without clothing. My arms are stretched out in a T and there's a lot of motion in the room. Jeremy is allowed to come over and sit behind me holding my hand. It feels good to have him nearby and although I'd really like to have him closer, an arms length is better than nothing.
It's 7:30 a.m. Dr. K comes in and Dr. M is there. Everyone is cheerful and Dr. K says he's ready for a birthday party. I call him over to me and remind him that the previous cesareans have left me with pain on my inner left side which took months to become bearable. He nods and says that he'll watch carefully. The curtain goes up at my chest. The surgeons are standing at my hips but it feels like they're down at the other end of the room. The anesthesiologist tells me that I'm numb and that they're ready to get started. I say that I can feel Dr. K poking me but that it doesn't hurt. Is that normal? The doctors say it is and they begin working. I can feel--without pain--the first several steps of the surgery and I lay there thinking how weird it is. Soon I hear suction (that's the amniotic fluid) then they're tugging and pushing and tugging and then Dr. M pokes his head around the curtain, smiles, and says that Baby has a lot of hair. All of a sudden, I feel a great pulling sensation and then I feel very empty and I hear Maria cry. Jeremy and I are laughing and smiling and I squeeze his hand and tell him to go to her. It's 7:45 a.m.
Dr. M holds Maria up for me as he moves from the operating table to the warming table. He puts Maria down and begins to check her over. He and the nurses wipe her down. Someone moves the curtain so that I can see her and he holds her up again for me, then continues to work. I watch him tickle her to get her to cry. Although she's pink and had been crying, she calmed quickly and will squawk and then lay quietly, moving only a little. A nurse asks Dr. M what he guesses her weight to be. He says 7-3 and when she weighs in at 7 lbs, 2 oz, they applaud. Everyone laughs. When they are sure she's doing well, they wrap her up and hand her to Jeremy. He brings her to me and I kiss her warm face, smell her skin, and admire the full head of hair that she worked so hard on.
Dr. K leans around the curtain to tell me that he can see nothing on my left side that he thinks would cause the long-lasting discomfort and says that he's closing and will be done soon. Before I know it, the curtain comes down and the nurses are moving me from the table to a cart and into recovery. Dr. M says that he's going to take off and that he'll be back later or tomorrow morning. I nod and thank him. Dr. K says that everything looks good and that he'll check on me tomorrow.
Jeremy is holding Maria and follows me to the recovery room. She's crying, so Jeremy unwraps her and lays her on my chest. The nurses offer me water and I take oral Percocet. They push my abdomen (thank heaven that I'm still numb) and monitor my heart rate and blood pressure. As I get a little more comfortable, I tell Jeremy to go ahead and take Maria to the nursery for her bath and meet me in our room, as I should have only 10 more minutes in recovery. After he goes, the nurses call Dr. K back because my incision is bleeding on one side--not an emergency, but not a good thing, either. He puts 3 or 4 more staples in, tells them to ice it, and explains to me why this is happening. This keeps me in the recovery room for another half hour. Finally, they decide that I'm okay and wheel my cart to my room where Jeremy is anxiously waiting with the baby, wondering what took so long and a little worried.
It's 9:45 now. They move me to my bed and my new nurse comes to introduce herself, help me into a nursing bra and T-shirt, asks about my pain (I'm still numb) and is in and out watching me closely for the next couple of hours. I begin to nurse Maria, the champ who latches right away and knows just what to do. When we are settled, we pick up the phone to share our good news.
::
More later, for those moms who are wondering how recovery has progressed.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Cesarean Resolved
So after all of this posting about cesareans--you can tell that there's one (well, two) things on my mind right now--what is the resolution?
::
One day I was at a playground with two of my children and had just become pregnant with Isaiah. I believe that I was 7 or 8 weeks along. A grandma came onto the playground; she had two children with her. One was a healthy two year old girl and the other child was an older boy. I think he was 4 or 5 at the time. He was laying in the stroller, clearly disabled and unresponsive. He was still in diapers. I asked what his name was and then what his story was. She told me his name and then told me MY labor story with Morgan but it didn't end with a cesarean. It ended with many more hours of labor, heart decelerations, and a vacuum and forceps delivery. He has severe cerebral palsy as a result. My heart was racing--I knew that God sent her to me to ease my mind and stop my emotional difficulty. He told me to let it go. I listened to Him.
::
I figure that every woman who is alive and of child bearing age has her own reproductive cross to carry. Some women cannot become pregnant. Some women need assistance to become pregnant. Some women miscarry. Some women are sick throughout their pregnancy. Some women end up with bedrest. Some women have agonizing labor and deliveries. Some end up with a cesarean delivery. Some suffer postpartum depression. Some have difficulty nursing or producing the amount of milk that is necessary to feed their babies.
A cesarean is my little cross. It's easy for me to become pregnant, easy for me to remain pregnant, and while pregnancy is not a picnic, it ends as it should--with a healthy baby. And nursing is a breeze. So if that's the worst it gets for me, I think that's a light cross to carry and I'll happily carry it and offer up this small suffering for mothers who have it much worse than I do.
::
So we use NFP carefully to space our pregnancies farther apart than some couples do. I consider, with each pregnancy, that this just might be our last baby and treat the experience as such--that is, I try to cherish each thump, each kick, each roll, and then every little newborn thing. I am so very grateful to God for blessing us not one but FIVE times!
::
There are perks, too!
1. A cesarean is on a planned date at a planned time and so far, we haven't delivered early. The kids go to Grandpa and Grandma's house the night before and we're off.
2. No labor--no wondering whether it's time to head for the hospital or waiting, waiting, waiting for those contractions to finally start. It doesn't matter whether baby is 9 pounds or 5 pounds; the surgery will be the same.
::
Do you have a story to share?
::
One day I was at a playground with two of my children and had just become pregnant with Isaiah. I believe that I was 7 or 8 weeks along. A grandma came onto the playground; she had two children with her. One was a healthy two year old girl and the other child was an older boy. I think he was 4 or 5 at the time. He was laying in the stroller, clearly disabled and unresponsive. He was still in diapers. I asked what his name was and then what his story was. She told me his name and then told me MY labor story with Morgan but it didn't end with a cesarean. It ended with many more hours of labor, heart decelerations, and a vacuum and forceps delivery. He has severe cerebral palsy as a result. My heart was racing--I knew that God sent her to me to ease my mind and stop my emotional difficulty. He told me to let it go. I listened to Him.
::
I figure that every woman who is alive and of child bearing age has her own reproductive cross to carry. Some women cannot become pregnant. Some women need assistance to become pregnant. Some women miscarry. Some women are sick throughout their pregnancy. Some women end up with bedrest. Some women have agonizing labor and deliveries. Some end up with a cesarean delivery. Some suffer postpartum depression. Some have difficulty nursing or producing the amount of milk that is necessary to feed their babies.
A cesarean is my little cross. It's easy for me to become pregnant, easy for me to remain pregnant, and while pregnancy is not a picnic, it ends as it should--with a healthy baby. And nursing is a breeze. So if that's the worst it gets for me, I think that's a light cross to carry and I'll happily carry it and offer up this small suffering for mothers who have it much worse than I do.
::
So we use NFP carefully to space our pregnancies farther apart than some couples do. I consider, with each pregnancy, that this just might be our last baby and treat the experience as such--that is, I try to cherish each thump, each kick, each roll, and then every little newborn thing. I am so very grateful to God for blessing us not one but FIVE times!
::
There are perks, too!
1. A cesarean is on a planned date at a planned time and so far, we haven't delivered early. The kids go to Grandpa and Grandma's house the night before and we're off.
2. No labor--no wondering whether it's time to head for the hospital or waiting, waiting, waiting for those contractions to finally start. It doesn't matter whether baby is 9 pounds or 5 pounds; the surgery will be the same.
::
Do you have a story to share?
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Planned Cesarean Details
What happens in a planned cesarean? Here is Isaiah's birth story.
On the morning of a planned cesarean, we wake at 4 a.m. We need to be at the hospital at 5:30, which is two hours before the surgery is scheduled to begin.
After a quick check-in, we are shown to a labor and delivery room. The nurses hook monitors up and we listen to Baby's heartbeat for two hours. They watch him and monitor him to make sure everything seems normal. I can hear some poor mother moaning in the next room. My heart aches for her because I know what labor feels like.
The phlebotomist comes in to take blood. The anesthesiologist comes in to discuss our options. I tell him that an oxygen mask over my face will make me feel panicky. He agrees to put tubes under my nose instead. The nurse shaves my abdomen and swabs me all over with iodine. Another nurse comes in to start an IV. I sign several forms. We watch the sun rise over the city and know that our baby will be here soon.
At 7:00, the nurse has Jeremy get into scrubs. We walk down to the operating room and I see that there are already four people milling around. One nurse supports me in a sort of bear hug as the anesthesiologist inserts the needle into my spine for the spinal. After the spinal has set in and I have reminded the seven people milling around to cover my exposed body, the nurses insert a catheter. They put my body on wedges so that I am inclined slightly to one side. They put monitors on my chest and spread my arms as if I'm the letter T and attach them to the table. The screen goes up. They ask if I'd like a mirror to see Baby's birth? (No way, Jose!) I can hear my heart pounding away over the monitors and I wonder if anyone else notices how odd it sounds. I'm nervous and that usually means I have PVCs--a benign but irregular heartbeat. No one seems concerned.
My doctor arrives and then the surgeon arrives. When they are sure that I am numb, they begin. I hear only the chatter of the surgical team and feel very little for several minutes and then the tugging begins. My body jerks around a little. Then it feels like someone is sitting on my chest. Just when I think it'll go on forever, I can suddenly take a deep breath and I hear Baby's cries and it's almost over! Surgery started at 7:30 and it's 7:36. I've got an excellent surgeon, folks. They take the oxygen off of my face and release my arms.
They hold the baby up and take him over to be cleaned. My doctor brings him to me almost immediately and it is good to see him in all of his wailing glory. I cry. I can hear the surgical team finishing their work, counting tools, and suctioning.
At 8:00, Jeremy, the baby, and our doctor disappear to the nursery. After a short bout with dry heaving which is miraculously cured with something into the IV, I head to recovery. Jeremy and the baby come to recovery and the nurses tell me that I can begin breastfeeding. But I'm not sitting up yet and I know that I'll be moved into a room soon. I ask how long and they say about 15 or 20 minutes. So with Jeremy's help, I hold the baby and talk to him. I'd rather wait to nurse when I'm in my own room with nowhere else to go (it's a good thing, too, because that first nursing session lasted over an hour).
12 hours later, the nurse helps me into the chair next to the bed. It's good for me to move because my rear end is really starting to hurt from sitting in bed. First thing the next morning, all of the tubes come out and I walk to the bathroom for the first time, use the toilet, and take a shower. We go home on the fourth day.
On the morning of a planned cesarean, we wake at 4 a.m. We need to be at the hospital at 5:30, which is two hours before the surgery is scheduled to begin.
After a quick check-in, we are shown to a labor and delivery room. The nurses hook monitors up and we listen to Baby's heartbeat for two hours. They watch him and monitor him to make sure everything seems normal. I can hear some poor mother moaning in the next room. My heart aches for her because I know what labor feels like.
The phlebotomist comes in to take blood. The anesthesiologist comes in to discuss our options. I tell him that an oxygen mask over my face will make me feel panicky. He agrees to put tubes under my nose instead. The nurse shaves my abdomen and swabs me all over with iodine. Another nurse comes in to start an IV. I sign several forms. We watch the sun rise over the city and know that our baby will be here soon.
At 7:00, the nurse has Jeremy get into scrubs. We walk down to the operating room and I see that there are already four people milling around. One nurse supports me in a sort of bear hug as the anesthesiologist inserts the needle into my spine for the spinal. After the spinal has set in and I have reminded the seven people milling around to cover my exposed body, the nurses insert a catheter. They put my body on wedges so that I am inclined slightly to one side. They put monitors on my chest and spread my arms as if I'm the letter T and attach them to the table. The screen goes up. They ask if I'd like a mirror to see Baby's birth? (No way, Jose!) I can hear my heart pounding away over the monitors and I wonder if anyone else notices how odd it sounds. I'm nervous and that usually means I have PVCs--a benign but irregular heartbeat. No one seems concerned.
My doctor arrives and then the surgeon arrives. When they are sure that I am numb, they begin. I hear only the chatter of the surgical team and feel very little for several minutes and then the tugging begins. My body jerks around a little. Then it feels like someone is sitting on my chest. Just when I think it'll go on forever, I can suddenly take a deep breath and I hear Baby's cries and it's almost over! Surgery started at 7:30 and it's 7:36. I've got an excellent surgeon, folks. They take the oxygen off of my face and release my arms.
They hold the baby up and take him over to be cleaned. My doctor brings him to me almost immediately and it is good to see him in all of his wailing glory. I cry. I can hear the surgical team finishing their work, counting tools, and suctioning.
At 8:00, Jeremy, the baby, and our doctor disappear to the nursery. After a short bout with dry heaving which is miraculously cured with something into the IV, I head to recovery. Jeremy and the baby come to recovery and the nurses tell me that I can begin breastfeeding. But I'm not sitting up yet and I know that I'll be moved into a room soon. I ask how long and they say about 15 or 20 minutes. So with Jeremy's help, I hold the baby and talk to him. I'd rather wait to nurse when I'm in my own room with nowhere else to go (it's a good thing, too, because that first nursing session lasted over an hour).
12 hours later, the nurse helps me into the chair next to the bed. It's good for me to move because my rear end is really starting to hurt from sitting in bed. First thing the next morning, all of the tubes come out and I walk to the bathroom for the first time, use the toilet, and take a shower. We go home on the fourth day.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Cearean Birth
Inspired by Morgan over at Adventures in Diapering and Beyond, I am attempting a post on cesarean birth. There's a lot more to it than you might think--it's more than a surgery and more than a birth. I've had four cesarean deliveries and am heading toward my fifth. Why write about this now? Anticipating this upcoming birth has got my stomach in knots and I'm way more worried than I should be. *Note: this is probably the same feeling many of you experience when anticipating labor and delivery! I wrote this post several days ago and am not so "knotted" up now. :)
Where do I start?
When I was pregnant with Morgan, my oldest, I anticipated labor followed by pushing and a nice, natural birth. After all, I was born with these great birthing hips and couldn't think of a good reason why I shouldn't be able to squeeze a baby out of them. I never, never imagined the possibility of a cesarean delivery. My water broke at 4 in the morning after a night of mild labor and we headed to the hospital. By 9 a.m. I was asking for my doula and by noon I wanted my mother. By 3:00, when the contractions were coming 30 second apart and I was still only 5 cm, my doctor suggested an epidural so that I could relax a little. Shortly after the epidural was put in, the pain melted away and I was ready to go again. But Morgan's heart rate began to dip with each contraction. When it dropped low enough to scare him, my doctor went for a second opinion and as my mother walked into the room, I was told that the baby needed to come out NOW and that I would need a cesarean to make it happen.
Things started to happen quickly. The nurses prepped my tummy for delivery and I signed form after form. I was wheeled down to the operating room where an OB/GYN whom I didn't know (my doctor is family practice) began the surgery. Soon Morgan was out in all of her wailing glory.
I wasn't prepared for the feeling of failure that came with Morgan's birth. So while I was struggling with a body that didn't do what it was supposed to, I was flogging myself for feeling that way. I had a healthy baby, didn't I?
When Morgan was five months old, we found out that we were expecting another baby. I was geared up for a VBAC when we visited our doctor. He said that rules and regulations had just changed and that in order for me to have a VBAC, there would have to be an OB/GYN in the hospital the whole time I was laboring. I went to a maternal-fetal specialist for a consult. He told us the risks of VBAC. The chances are that 1 woman in 50 will experience uterine rupture during an attempted VBAC. Because our pregnancies were so close together, my risks were higher. I didn't want to be that 1 in 50, so much to my dismay and with me feeling like a complete failure, we scheduled our second cesarean.
Madeleine was born 13 months after Morgan. The recovery from her cesarean was easy and went well. When she was five weeks old, I began jogging.
When she was eight months old, we found out that Noah was on the way. By the time he was born, I'd had three cesareans in 29 months. The recovery from his birth was not sweet nor was it easy. I don't know if it's because I had three children under 2 1/2 or because of the proximity of my cesareans. I don't know if it was a fluke. There was something on my left side that pulled and hurt and required an ice pack every two hours for several months. A year later, that stinging, pulling feeling finally started to fade.
Using Natural Family Planning, we were able to put a bigger space between our children. We wanted more children, we just wanted to give my poor body a chance to recover between surgeries. Noah was 2 1/2 when Isaiah was born.
Before Isaiah's mouth had been suctioned, he was crying. I could hear him gurgling and then wailing as they delivered him! My surgeon (the maternal-fetal specialist) removed scar tissue, closed me, and sent me on my way. For the first two weeks after Isaiah was born, I felt great. But a few weeks after he was born, the same pain set in that I had experienced after Noah's birth. It was intense this time. If I stood for too long or walked more than a block, I had to sit with an ice pack again. It went on for months. Ice and ibuprofen helped, but even now, almost three years later, I can still feel a twinge inside of me--in a corner of the incision--if I exert myself too much.
Now we're racing toward our fifth cesarean, our fifth child. I've had a consult with the same maternal-fetal specialist who delivered Madeleine, Noah, and Isaiah. I told him about the after pain and he asked me to remind him of it the morning of surgery so that he was aware and could look for a problem and also work to avoid a potential problem or recurrence.
So I've been humbly praying for a good, quick recovery from this child's birth. I don't want the recovery to dampen her newborn phase.
Next ... what is a planned cesarean like?
Where do I start?
When I was pregnant with Morgan, my oldest, I anticipated labor followed by pushing and a nice, natural birth. After all, I was born with these great birthing hips and couldn't think of a good reason why I shouldn't be able to squeeze a baby out of them. I never, never imagined the possibility of a cesarean delivery. My water broke at 4 in the morning after a night of mild labor and we headed to the hospital. By 9 a.m. I was asking for my doula and by noon I wanted my mother. By 3:00, when the contractions were coming 30 second apart and I was still only 5 cm, my doctor suggested an epidural so that I could relax a little. Shortly after the epidural was put in, the pain melted away and I was ready to go again. But Morgan's heart rate began to dip with each contraction. When it dropped low enough to scare him, my doctor went for a second opinion and as my mother walked into the room, I was told that the baby needed to come out NOW and that I would need a cesarean to make it happen.
Things started to happen quickly. The nurses prepped my tummy for delivery and I signed form after form. I was wheeled down to the operating room where an OB/GYN whom I didn't know (my doctor is family practice) began the surgery. Soon Morgan was out in all of her wailing glory.
I wasn't prepared for the feeling of failure that came with Morgan's birth. So while I was struggling with a body that didn't do what it was supposed to, I was flogging myself for feeling that way. I had a healthy baby, didn't I?
When Morgan was five months old, we found out that we were expecting another baby. I was geared up for a VBAC when we visited our doctor. He said that rules and regulations had just changed and that in order for me to have a VBAC, there would have to be an OB/GYN in the hospital the whole time I was laboring. I went to a maternal-fetal specialist for a consult. He told us the risks of VBAC. The chances are that 1 woman in 50 will experience uterine rupture during an attempted VBAC. Because our pregnancies were so close together, my risks were higher. I didn't want to be that 1 in 50, so much to my dismay and with me feeling like a complete failure, we scheduled our second cesarean.
Madeleine was born 13 months after Morgan. The recovery from her cesarean was easy and went well. When she was five weeks old, I began jogging.
When she was eight months old, we found out that Noah was on the way. By the time he was born, I'd had three cesareans in 29 months. The recovery from his birth was not sweet nor was it easy. I don't know if it's because I had three children under 2 1/2 or because of the proximity of my cesareans. I don't know if it was a fluke. There was something on my left side that pulled and hurt and required an ice pack every two hours for several months. A year later, that stinging, pulling feeling finally started to fade.
Using Natural Family Planning, we were able to put a bigger space between our children. We wanted more children, we just wanted to give my poor body a chance to recover between surgeries. Noah was 2 1/2 when Isaiah was born.
Before Isaiah's mouth had been suctioned, he was crying. I could hear him gurgling and then wailing as they delivered him! My surgeon (the maternal-fetal specialist) removed scar tissue, closed me, and sent me on my way. For the first two weeks after Isaiah was born, I felt great. But a few weeks after he was born, the same pain set in that I had experienced after Noah's birth. It was intense this time. If I stood for too long or walked more than a block, I had to sit with an ice pack again. It went on for months. Ice and ibuprofen helped, but even now, almost three years later, I can still feel a twinge inside of me--in a corner of the incision--if I exert myself too much.
Now we're racing toward our fifth cesarean, our fifth child. I've had a consult with the same maternal-fetal specialist who delivered Madeleine, Noah, and Isaiah. I told him about the after pain and he asked me to remind him of it the morning of surgery so that he was aware and could look for a problem and also work to avoid a potential problem or recurrence.
So I've been humbly praying for a good, quick recovery from this child's birth. I don't want the recovery to dampen her newborn phase.
Next ... what is a planned cesarean like?
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