Pushing begins.
And somewhere before pushing began, I was catheterized to empty my bladder. That was a joyous process. Well really, the epidural hid most of the sensation - I felt it but not much.
For the uneducated - when pushing in a bed, someone holds your feet up and legs out for you.
I had two things wrong with my legs. My right leg had gone completely numb from the epidural and I had no control of it. Whoever was holding my right leg had to let it down gently or risk being kicked in the hip/thigh/stomach/lower nether regions.
Also I developed a massive nasty pain in my left hip at some point just before pushing started and it was only relieved when my left leg was held up. So, someone had to hold it up during rest periods when I was on my back - where I did my best pushing. During this time it occured to me that my mother-in-law had now seen parts of me that I had never seen... and that in an alternate reality that might bug me. Today however, she was responsible for keeping me supplied in cold cloths for my forehead and ice chips for my mouth and that was wonderful.
Somewhere between this time and what was deemed too long, the OB and the rest of the victory team were called in. They brought with them the vacuum. Not because they wanted to do some light housework while I was in labour. No, this little toy was to help extract the Jelly from its not quite so watery anymore world.
This would have been fine but I had informed the OB of what kind of patient I was earlier when I told her I didn't want to discuss the fetal electrode monitor thingy and she remembered that as the only information I got about the vacuum was that it could be scary if it popped off the head as it would be quite loud. I had to lie on my back while they prepared it and my left leg had to be left down which hurt like, hurt like... hurt a LOT. I was catheterized again during this period without being told and I felt it this time much more strongly than the last. So what I'm sayin' is, I was in some discomfort. I started flailing and crying and the victory team was firmly telling me I needed to stay still and cooperate (which I knew, but the bitch-slapping was appreciated) but I felt it necessary to tell them they were hurting me. My nurse told them that my left hip was causing me quite a bit of discomfort and that having my leg down wasn't helping matters and suddenly everyone was nice and calm again. We tried to increase the epidural but realized that really wasn't helping. Another bright person realized that there was no order for a top-up on it so we really should get moving. The vacuum now attached, we began pushing again and in just a few pushes from my end and pulls from the other end, the Jellyfish made its grand appearance at 1:42am Tuesday, September 4, 2007.
Probably one minute but what felt like more passed before someone told me the sex. All I got to see was the top of the baby's head where the vacuum had been. All I heard was "Oh, he's beautiful!" My brain would not register the sex until a nonchalant voice said in a nonchalant way, "Oh it's a boy by the way." That was when I looked down. The baby was already across the room being weighed and whatnot. No I looked more towards my knees (both down at this point - the pain went away with the Jellyfish) and saw a large green scrub towel soaked in what was presumably my blood. I knew what was coming next. I knew I needed to push the placenta out and I could see by the OB's face that we should do that now. I allowed myself a prolonged blink and when I looked back, she was looking at the baby across the room too. There was a ton of madness at this point while we discussed the baby's name. I asked Dad if the name we had picked looked like a good one. Then the OB said, "let's get the placenta out. You need to push again." So she coached me through pushing that out. Fun. I never got to see it. I had wanted to a little bit. Oh well, I know what they look like. Squishy and bloody and veiny. And gross. So you can see why I was interested in seeing it. Remember, I have a twisted sense of fun.
Then the OB and one of the victory nurses set about stitching me. It took them about an hour. So for this process you lie on your back with your feet in the stirrups and the crabby little victory nurse tells you to let your legs fall like jelly. I rolled my eyes behind closed lids (which conveniently had a cold facecloth over them) and held my legs apart for them with my hands. I still couldn't control the right leg and if I let it go on its own it would be out of the stirrup and on the floor - a position that wouldn't help anybody.
The nurse from the pushing helped me explain that the right leg needed to be supported because of the epidural. I said something like, "I need to hold on to this leg. You're not hurting me, but I will tense my leg muscles because that's what I do. If my right leg slides to close to you, smack my hand and I'll move it
again. Sorry." This worked well.
TMI ALERT
I found out later (discharge day) that the vacuum had required an episiotomy - no surprise and that baby boy had torn me internally. Rather than a tear along the vaginal wall, he had ripped me through the wall. So they had to find the end of the tear first and then do a nice happy stitch back out. So that's why it took so long
So, the details:
Baby Boy: Matthew William
Born: 1:42am, Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Weight: 8lb, 6.2oz
Length: 20 1/2"
Apgar scores: 9 and 9 (honestly, no one passes colour - I didn't).
3 and a bit hours pushing.
Baby boy had low blood sugars - not a full crash, but low. I had high sugars for the first half day, but then both of us stabalized. Woo-hoo!
No count on stitches, but one tear and a standard episiotomy.
A few more details, including the most entertaining which occured Tuesday night/Wednesday morning:
Company came on Tuesday evening and there were so many of us we took over the whole waiting room. Grandpa and Nanny were able to see the kid and Dad's Mommy and Dad and Dad's brother and sister-in-law and their kid (Jelly's cousin) were able to see the baby.
Baby boy's blood sugars were checked a lot during the day on Tuesday - always from the foot. Poor thing.
All day Tuesday we struggled with breastfeeding. I have some physical barriers that are complicating things, and baby boy had low blood sugars making him tired. We were able to pump enough to get him fed using a cup during the day - the nurses were very helpful with that. At night we fed him again and the evening nurse was good enough to come back at midnight to feed him again. Then she left us and told us to make sure he ate again within 4 hours.
It started with the poo. at 2:00. We both changed the pooey, end of meconium diaper and wrapped him back up to put him to bed. At 2:15 he cried. I offered him a boob but no. We gave him some formula while I pumped. By the time we got the colostrum out, he wasn't interested in it anymore. Somewhere between 2:20 and 3:00, during which time Dad told me to sleep, he was still fussy. I woke up and said, "have you slept?" Dad said, "No." I said, "give him to me. Sleep." So we changed another diaper and gave him the colostrum he hadn't been interested in before and I wandered around with him for a bit.
I pumped again during this period - 15 minutes on each side and lost it all down my side - didn't get any of it into the cup. I cursed and cried and did my best not to break into all out sobs.
It took us until 6:15 to realize just how sleep-deprived we were. This was when we looked at the table and realized we had three sealed bottles of formula in the room.
4 hours struggling to feed our infant son and not knowing how to do it before we realized there were THREE bottles of READY TO EAT formula AND three nipples in the room with us. So we topped up his usual 5 mL feeding with the formula and went to bed. I fell asleep with the bairn on my chest and woke up around 7:00.
I looked at the clock and figured I should stay awake because any moment someone would come through the door wanting to look at my bum. The staff really is fascinated by your bum after you give birth. As it was the first person to poke their head in the door was someone from housing services. She just wanted to empty the garbage and announced that breakfast would be showing up soon. It did. I figured it had been 24 hours, I didn't need to have my sugars checked. I was about to eat when one of the lab rats came and smiled. I asked her which one of us she wanted. She said she wanted me. The two of us reasoned together that I probably didn't need my sugars checked so I could go ahead and eat. She left. I started eating. The daytime nurse showed up to check my sugars. Dangit. They were good. Baby boy had his done too and they were low. So the lab was called to check them in their fancy whirly machines. Where they were deemed okay - for the second time -woo-hoo!
I ate. The OB came and told us if we wanted to leave that day we could. Again, we expressed our love for her. Discharge was all organized through the nurse. Baby Boy fell asleep during his PKU (nasty blood test done with the heel). He screamed for a bit, but eventually fell asleep. I told the nurse that I would continue to try breastfeeding and that I had every intention of pumping it for him until we figured something out and that we had formula at home for him to supplement. She was happy with that. So we were allowed to go home when my Mommy showed up to help us pack.
And home we went.
That's it for now.
More details will follow at semi-IRregular intervals.
Ciao!
-HLC

