- Psalm 62:5-8
A good friend sent me this passage the morning of our induction. I clung to it today.
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We were told to wait for Labor and Delivery to call before coming to the hospital. We ended up waiting the entire morning!
In God's sovereign timing, this allowed us to listen in on the impromptu prayer meeting with our church's women's group. Mothers and a grandmother -- all saints and friends -- willingly entered into our sorrow, faithfully and fervently interceding on our behalf. We acknowledged together our reliance upon and trust in our loving Father. I recognized each voice and broken heart over speaker phone, calling out to God with prayer requests I had shared the day prior with a sister. What a sweet picture of the family of God.
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11:50am We are admitted and the receptionists whisper amongst themselves, pointing to Baby's due date I wrote on the pre-admission form. I am led to the last room (Room 12) on the floor, away from the normal deliveries. I am thankful for that consideration.
~12:10pm The doctor on call enters our room, discussing the induction plan.
12:30pm Our first nurse happily obliges with my request to monitor Baby Girl's heartbeat. Her heartrate is strong and full of health. This nurse is an answer to prayer: She is just the right amount of humor and compassion. She feels like an old friend, and we are sad her shift is over at 3:00pm.
1:45pm Induction begins.
2:00pm What I thought were Braxon-Hicks I had felt early on in the pregnancy begins to ramp up. Our nurse tells me they were really irritations: that I had actually already been contracting. Could it be? My body had already begun the process of delivery, as Mom had told me? I am uncomfortable but not yet in pain.
3:23pm On-call doctor informs us of my labs. My platelet levels are low, the liver issues are worsening, and that I should get the epidural sooner than later. If my platelets reach a minimum, my blood would be too thin to clot and I would not be able to have the epidural at all. The doctors are all preoccupied with me getting the epidural, and understandably so. I feel fine, but am told I am at risk for HELLP Syndrome.
3:30pm Shift change. We snap a quick photo with our nurse, and meet our next nurse. She ends up staying with us for another shift to see us through. What a gift.
4:30pm Contractions become increasingly uncomfortable but not yet painful. Our nurse tells us the contractions are too close together -- on top of each other, she said, to administer the next dose. Another praise: Labor is going well, and my body is responding well to the induction drug.
5:10pm Vital checks. Baby's heartbeat is still strong; about 160. I get emotional with each Doppler check. Would this be the last time we hear Baby? Will labor be too strenuous for Baby? The nurse never takes the Doppler away until I say it is ok to. What a sensitive and sweet nurse.
7:10pm We facetime with grandparents to say good night to ZJ. I am beginning to hurt. I try to manage the contractions through breathing as we chat. We decide it is time to get the epidural as I was beginning to get uncomfortable.
7:38pm The anesthesiologist wants another lab drawn before giving the epidural. Super sad face. Our nurse offers me fentanyl, to which I eventually agree to. The epidural would take another hour since we would have to wait for my labs to return first. The fentanyl made me feel crazy; I was woozy, dizzy, and felt like I was flying out of the room.
7:45pm My parents and sister arrive. I cannot hide my pain. I never imagined laboring in front of my family. Each contraction lasts ~5 minutes long. I begin to feel despairing that I would not make it before the anesthesiologist returned.
8:40pm Anesthesiologist returns. My family goes home. It was the WORST epidural I have had. She could not place it, kept making comments like, "Oops! I cannot get it in. Let's try another pack." I must stay still the entire time, with my back curved. Our nurse and Derrick literally hold me up the entire time. The anesthesiologist takes 15-20 minutes. My legs go numb, tingly, warm. It is terrible. The epidural takes the edge off the contractions, but I still feel everything... every part of this birth is not as I had envisioned.
9:15pm New on-call doctor comes in. She tells me I am complete, and that my bag of waters is in the way of delivery. We decide to have her break my water to expedite labor. It is the biggest gush I had ever felt. We cannot believe we are getting close to delivery so quickly. On-call doctor then explains that my cervix was held up by the bag of waters, and it was just a 5 now. So we would wait before pushing.
9:37pm Dear friends visit with the rest of the clay prints. I feel the urge to push as we chat. Friends pray to end our time together.
10:23pm On-call doctor can feel Baby's feet as she is breech. I request a Doppler check, where we find the heartbeat slowing down. Baby Girl is dying. And I feel like dying in labor.
11:16pm I am not sure what the delay is about because I could have begun pushing a lot sooner. The delivery feels intimate: the bed remained unopened, and the doctor sat on the table next to me. The stoic doctor (who proudly performs D&Es -- my last pick for the doctor to deliver Baby) has her hands shoved up me, trying to pull Baby down. The pain is blinding. She says Baby is high, and I would have to do the work of pushing Baby down. Since I could well feel my contractions, I pushed with them. I had thought Baby would come out easily and quickly but it was difficult. Derrick encourages me by letting me know Baby is coming, that I was doing a good job. I scream as the rest of Baby's body/head crowns but try to channel my energy in getting Baby out because that would be the only way to end the exquisite pain.
11:27pm Baby is delivered in a big goop. Mom and Derrick inspect Baby, weeping. This is the first time in 3 deliveries that Derrick tells me that he is so proud of me, that I am so brave and strong. Our nurse takes Baby to another bed, where Mom and Derrick take photos. I still have not seen Baby. Mom and Derrick call to me that Baby is a girl. I then work hard with the doctor to deliver the placenta. It is not coming, and I feel worried. Eventually, it comes and I thank God. The doctor says the placenta is so abnormal and to send it to Pathology. Mom says it is 3x the normal size. I watch the nurse pour the huge organ-looking thing into a take-out looking container for further analysis. The labor and delivery felt wildly traumatic and violent.
12:00am I am cleaned up, and meet Baby Girl for the first time. I feel an overwhelming, sad love for her but know her spirit is already with Jesus. She has a face! And the sweetest one, at that. Mom commented that her nose looked like J's. She has sweetly-formed lips and chin, little hands and feet. Mom had warned us that her skin would be bright red because she was so premature. She is swollen everywhere, just like in the scans. But I am utterly exhausted from the labor and delivery. I beg for someone to take her lest I drop her. My eyes just keep closing, though I will them to stay open to take in this moment we would never again have.
12:30am The rest of my family arrives. They each hold her, cry, and love our Baby Girl. I am so thankful they recognize her life.
1:05am My family leaves. I feel sad that Derrick is by himself with Baby, but I am catatonic. The doctor and nurse leave us. Derrick sits next to me on the bed, while I doze off. I hope to take a quick nap and then return to the moment.
1:51am We are ready to say goodbye to our daughter. We pray. I watch the nurse weigh her -- 2 lbs 2 oz!, and take other measurements.
3:00am The nurse pushes me to the Mother-Baby unit. I look back to where Baby lies, and our nurse asks if I would like to see her one last time. I whisper, "Yes, please." I tearfully tell Baby, "Goodbye, I love you," and nod to the nurse. I weep as I am wheeled away, away from my baby, and into somewhere new. Somewhere where there are happy families celebrating with balloons and flower arrangements, DSLRs ready, newborn babes crying. I am the only mother wheeled out on a wheelchair vs. a bed because I have no baby to hold. Family members waiting for loved ones currently delivering stare at me, a teary mess, clutching my belongings. The nurse hugs me, makes sure I am taken care of, and returns to Room 12 for the next hour to make ink + clay prints with Derrick. Mom told me later the nurse cried outside of our room. I brush my teeth and pass out. I then wake every hour with nurses coming in and out, vitals, labs, etc.
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I feel so saddened that I had to bring forth Baby Girl in so much physical labor and pain that I could barely enjoy her afterwards.
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