Tuesday, 19 April 2005
I am officially eight days overdue; with little baby still determined not to make an appearance we head off to hospital to commence the scheduled induction. We arrive at the Mater Hospital at 21.30 and I am given an internal exam which confirms baby is still positioned very high in my pelvis and I am 0cm dilated. A monitor is placed around my tummy to check on baby’s heart beat which confirms I am not experiencing contractions. At 22.45 a synthetic prostaglandin gel is put on my cervix in the hope to ripen it and trigger labour. Michael is told to go home and get some rest and come back in the morning.
Wednesday, 20 April 2005
I find it difficult to sleep (being in a strange bed and all that) and wake up around 03.00 with some mild cramping. Excited that the gel is working and this could be the start of my contractions and early labour, I call the nurse for some pain relief options knowing I have a big day ahead and need all the rest I can get. I am given some Panadeine and a hot pack and go back to sleep.
At 06.00 the nurse wakes me up and performs another internal exam. Overnight I have dilated to 1cm, but baby has still not dropped low enough into my pelvis. As I am already having contractions a repeat application of the prostaglandin gel is not needed. I am told to pack a small bag of toiletries and whatever else I fancy as I am being moved to the delivery suite and my obstetrician will be in at 07.00 to give me another internal exam and artificially rupture my membranes (ie break my waters). I call Michael and tell him to get back to the hospital. He arrives within 20 minutes to help set up camp in the delivery suite, and my obstetrician arrives at 07.40. The good doctor then proceeds to break my waters, meaning that finally things are really starting to happen.
We are both given some breakfast at 08.35 and the contractions are increasing in regularity and intensity. My contractions are only lasting around 30-40 seconds and are still a few minutes apart. To deal with the discomfort, the breathing techniques and pelvic rocking manoeuvres I have learnt at pre-natal yoga are working well. Michael is being very supportive giving me back rubs between contractions and keeping me focused on my breathing. As the pain intensifies I decide to have a shower so I can use the stream of hot water on my lower back to soothe myself. It seems to work, as it is around now that I declare I don’t want to leave the shower because the hot water feels so good. I really would like to sit in a hot bath; however decide against it as the midwife informs me that the bath could slow down my contractions, and therefore prolong the labour.
At 09.30 I am hooked up to a drip of oxytocin that increases the strength and regularity of contractions. Monitors are again strapped to my tummy to monitor baby’s heartbeat and record the contractions. Once the drip starts my contractions become stronger and as a consequence, more painful. They are still only 30-40 seconds long, but they are doubling up and there are fewer breaks in between.
The midwife gives me another internal exam at 12.00 and I am disappointed to be told I had only dilated 2-3cm. As labour is getting more painful I ask for some pethidine. By now I have stopped my pelvic rocking and was focused solely on my breathing. I am now even vocalising some “oohs” and “aahs” (Surprisingly during my entire labour I only swear twice. Really!)
It’s 14.00 and I’ve had enough of the pain. The pethidine hasn’t helped and whilst I have had another hot shower I realise if I am to reach the goal of dilating to 10cm I’m not going to make it without some serious drugs. I am becoming exhausted and the midwife estimates I could be in labour for another eight hours before we get to the pushing stage. Bugger that, I ask for an epidural.
Ah, the wonderful feeling of not feeling. The epidural has worked a treat. I now watch my contractions on the monitor and not feel them. We are also noticing that every time the monitor shows I am having a contraction the baby’s heartbeat seems to drop, as we are listening to that through the monitor as well. The midwife gives me another internal exam and says I am now 4cm dilated.
Now 15.00, the midwife is concerned due to baby’s slowing heartbeat during each contraction. I am taken off the oxytocin drip but this of course slows down the contractions and dilation process. Putting me back on the drip speeds up the labour process but distresses the baby. The midwife has been updating my obstetrician by phone all day on my progress, and at 17.00 he returns to my delivery suite and we discuss the options of delivering the baby. As baby’s head is still not low enough in my pelvis and I am dilating at a snail’s pace, it is estimated if I continue with the drip (distressing the baby) I could be in labour for another 4-6 hours (presuming I dilate to 10cm in that time) and will most likely have to have a forceps delivery with likely internal tearing (ouch!) and an episiotomy (double ouch!). Even after all this I could find myself and baby in need of an emergency caesarean.
It is agreed between ourselves and the obstetrician that I have the caesarean as it appears that in the end it will be safer for baby and better for me. Within 30 minutes I am prepared and being wheeled down to theatre for the operation, and Michael has been whisked off to be dressed in scrubs so he can be with me for the delivery. Rather than an additional, or separate anaesthetic being administered for the operation my epidural gets a top-up, and I have now got a case of the shakes and shivers from all the drugs (and nerves). Once in the operating room, a blue sheet is erected in front of my face and I can’t see down to my tummy to watch the operation. I am relieved when Michael finally arrives by my side because with all the bright surgical lights, monitors, TV screens, operating theatre carry-on, and how fast everything was happening I am starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. My obstetrician asks me if I am ready for him to start, and when I reply with a “yes” he tells me that’s good; because he already has. I can’t feel anything so decide to focus on the TV screen to distract my nerves, which shows a small empty table with a green surgical sheet on it. I presume this is where they would put baby to check once he was out as was explained to us in the prenatal classes. I look up at Michael who is looking anywhere but over the blue sheet. Within a few minutes my obstetrician says the head is out and they are clearing baby’s air passages. The rest of baby’s body is pulled out and we are told that the umbilical cord is wrapped all around baby’s body. The blue sheet is now lowered enough so I can see the baby, but I can’t really see anything other than two little hands reaching high in the air, and now I hear a little cry. I look over to the TV screen and can see baby being placed on the green surgical sheet, but now one of the theatre staff is in my way and I can’t see anything, only hear baby bleat like a lamb. Michael is now allowed up to take some photos and has also been offered the cord to cut which he has done, and then he returns with a nurse who is holding baby wrapped up tightly in a blanket.
I can’t believe this is our baby, and it is a very strange feeling to just be told this is our baby as I can’t hold him yet. I get to give him a quick kiss on the cheek and look up for our first family photo before Michael is escorted out of the theatre with the baby to the nursery. I am stitched up and then wheeled off to the recovery room.
It is another hour before I am returned to my room and little Henry is finally placed in my arms. I thought when the moment came I would bawl my eyes out, but I am so out of it on morphine all I can do is stare at him in disbelief. Michael is also looking dazed by the experience. It has been a long, exhausting day for all three of us.
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