Monday, October 29, 2012
If that happens, and you're 40 weeks pregnant, it means you're in labour. The thing about labour, though, is that in its early stages it often lasts for days. I had a clinic appointment scheduled for the next afternoon which we kept. Contractions were still 7 minutes apart. They sent us home. Evening came. The Man of Science and all the pets went to sleep. I stayed up, saying "yikes" a little louder for a while, and eventually switching to profanities. I watched episodes of The Golden Girls in the bathtub. Eventually I just paced around the room. When the contractions were 5 minutes apart and I was in a lot of pain and slightly delirious from lack of sleep, I woke the MoS up and said it was time to go to the hospital.
At first they said they weren't even going to admit us, but then the nurse told me that the baby wasn't reacting well to my contractions. They admitted us, we called our doula, Danielle, and I made myself comfortable in the hospital bed.
A few hours later, we were still hanging out peacefully in the hospital room, expecting many, many more hours of labour. I was sitting on an exercise ball and chatting with Danielle. The Man of Science had gone home (with everyone's blessing) to walk the dogs. A nurse came in to check the baby's heartbeat. She couldn't find it. I was immediately uneasy because since the very early stages of his existence, this child's heartbeat had been easy to detect. Doppler machines, ultrasounds, whatever - the heartbeat was always there.
Within about two minutes I was, as I kept describing it to people, in the middle of a Gray's Anatomy episode. Bed flattened and being wheeled through hospital hallways with nurses and doctors running alongside, double doors flying open, mask pressed over my face while I very sincerely asked the nurse who was holding my hand, "Is my baby going to die?" She couldn't answer.
Eight minutes later, I was unconscious and Milo George was born via a very emergency cesarean section. Very much alive and completely healthy. All seven glorious pounds of him.
Since I was put completely under, so didn't know the full extent of what had happened until I woke up, hours later. As a precaution, Milo stayed in the neo-natal intensive care unit for the first few days of his life, but soon he was with us in our small hospital room. Since then we've all been together as a new family of three and Milo has been paying us back for his difficult birth by being a fairly easy baby. Knock on wood.
Now we are all home, learning how to live together and muddling happily through these first few weeks. I am healing slowly and taking things easy and counting my blessings. More in love with my two guys than I really ever thought anyone could be.