Call it intuition or what have you, something just didn't feel right...
I had my first contraction around 8:30 in the morning, but it was weak and I tried to tell myself it's not a labor contraction... you are fine! This is not how it happens... not today! So, I drove Ezra to school and kissed him goodbye and squeezed him extra tight, because somehow I knew... I was in denial, but a part of me knew. I knew this would be the day that all we have been preparing and waiting for would be put to the test. Nevertheless, no matter how much you think you can prepare yourself... you cannot be prepared for the death of your child. You can read every book and every blog, you can read every medical journal, and you can talk to every parent that has been down this road to try to prepare yourself for what is about to happen, but how can you prepare to say hello and goodbye to your child at the same time?
Contractions kept coming, but were still weak, irregular, and would subside when I was relaxing so I thought it was just false labor. I decided to make sure we were ready and had everything we needed should it be time. I made sure Ezra had clean clothes, the kitchen was clean, and our hospital bag was packed with the things we needed for Silas. This was my last effort to remain in control over what was happening because a part of me knew, while the other part remained in denial. There had been many "signs" (or maybe they were all crazy coincidences) that day that I tried not to ignore. I wanted to be ready, I wanted to listen to these signs, but I was still incredibly scared of all the unknown. Would we be meeting Silas soon? Would he live minutes, hours, months... if at all? Would he suffer or be in pain? Would he beat the odds? How will I get through this? How will my family get through this?
I picked up my son from school, I called my husband, I called the doctor, I called my father-in-law who came to get Ezra, and before we knew it... Karl and I were headed to the hospital. A place we had just been the previous Friday. We had our meeting with the OB director to get an idea of what we could expect on Silas's birthday and what we wanted to happen when the time came. This meeting was one that brought us much comfort. Knowing that we would all be well taken care of and that those caring for us were compassionate and ready to stand by us as we braced ourselves for the unknown. This meeting was difficult but lightened my heavy heart. When it was over, the OB director gave us a warm hug and we parted ways hoping not to see each other again until October 17th.
Her face was the first that we saw as we entered the birthing center that Tuesday. I was relieved to see her, a familiar face. She was not relieved to see us, but as promised, she was ready for us. We were quickly put in an exam room and the nurse manager came in to take care of us. She simply was the best person for this job and little did I know then that she would become someone I will never forget. It was a little after 3 in the afternoon and by this time contractions were regular and slightly stronger than they had been in the morning. I was 4 cm dilated and almost completely effaced. We were staying. This was it. It was happening now.
As the afternoon faded to evening, we had some wonderful company. Karl's parents and my pseudo parents along with our first miracle, Ezra, helped pass the time and reminded us that we weren't alone in this. We were surrounded by love and warmth, and I am eternally grateful to those who were at our side.
It wasn't until around 10 pm that Karl and I were alone. After everyone had gone, I told Karl I needed to get out of bed for a minute because the contractions were making me uncomfortable. I put both feet on the ground and stood. Then it hit me...contractions so strong and painful that I had to relinquish any hope that this wasn't really happening. They hit like a tidal wave quickly and forcefully knocking me off my feet, harshly reminding me that I was not in control. I couldn't stop what was happening. So again, just like when we got the diagnosis, I took a deep breath and... Let go. We were about to meet our precious baby boy. I wasn't afraid anymore because with the wave of reality came a wave of strength. I just rubbed my tummy and swayed while repeating our mantra "everything is going to be all right."
We were moved into a large birthing room and my contractions were 2 minutes apart and very strong. Our nighttime nurse, who I also will never forget, was sure that with any contraction my water was going to break and we would soon hold our second born son in our arms. I was in full-blown labor. I was in a lot of pain, I was shaking uncontrollably, and I was vomiting. This was not the beauty you think of when people talk about giving birth. This was ugly, it was chaotic, and I wanted the world around me to stop so I could catch my breath. Finally, relief came with a small injection of local anesthetic into my back, followed by another needle to feed a catheter into the area around my spinal cord. Again, I could breathe and repeat everything is going to be all right...It was past 1 o'clock in the morning and we called our family to let them know that they needed to come back. The pediatrician came in and talked with us about what Karl and I wanted for Silas and he was kind enough to sit and answer a few questions that our family had. He expressed how he agreed with our decisions and supported us 100%. It felt good to know that our doctors thought we were doing the right thing and we weren't making decisions we would later question and regret. He also told us that Silas's odds of survival were very low when we took into account all of his issues and him being 32 weeks gestation. The thing we wanted more than anything was that Silas wouldn't suffer or be in pain. We realized a while back that there was no medical intervention that would save him and as his parents we just wanted to love him no matter how brief his life. That wasn't about to change.
After the pediatrician left, I had lost track of time and was calming down from the relief of the epidural. The nurse checked me to see if there was any progression. Completely effaced, 6 cm dilated, but my water still had not broken and the amount of fluid was causing Silas to float up and he could not put himself in the right position that would cause my water to break. She decided she wasn't going to check me anymore because she was very concerned that she was going to break my water if she did. So we waited through the night.
Karl slept on the pull out couch next to my bed and my mother-in-law sat in the rocking chair in front of me all night. We tried to rest and sleep, but it was impossible. I was so exhausted from the events of the day that I would have been able to sleep if it wasn't for the horrific screams of a fellow mother in labor four rooms down. Screams of someone being tortured by the birth of a perfectly healthy baby. One that will be born into this world screaming just as loud as her mother. There would be no screaming mother in our room, no screaming baby either... just the keening of a bereaved mother. Our nurse was apologetic when I jokingly asked if L&D was always this loud at night, but she matched my sense of humor with her wit. "You know what they say... the way you sound during labor is the way you sound at conception!" I couldn't help but laugh.
Morning crept in through the window as the sun rose. I remember looking out and thinking, this is the last sunrise before my world will forever change... no sunrise will ever be the same. Around 8 in the morning my doctor came in and ordered an ultrasound to check what position Silas was in. He was concerned that if he wasn't in the right position when my water broke it would cause a lot of problems, especially for me. An hour later, we were watching our sweet boy one last time. He was still hanging on and still fighting. The sonographer kindly printed out a few pictures for us to keep.
Silas wasn't in the best position, but his position was good enough that we didn't need to worry about him trying to come out sideways and having to have a C-section. It was only a matter of time now and again I repeated,
"Everything is going to be all right."
... To be continued.
No comments :
Post a Comment