The Best of Bear: Part 2

Part 1 found here.

Originally posted 3/7/13: I'm sorry...that does not compute.
Yesterday's post ended with the anesthesiologists (finally) getting my epidural inserted and started (after 3 attempts/3 separate spinal punctures). Brad was allowed to come back in, and I caught him up on what he had missed, including the distressing dialogue overheard. He was appropriately sympathetic for the back pain and frustrated at the frightening words. And, blissfully, after about 15 minutes, the meds kicked in, I stopped feeling the contractions, and was only dealing with the mag, which didn't even seem so bad anymore, now that the minute-apart contractions were under control. I was almost feeling good and definitely understood why women rave about epidurals.

It was lovely.

Ew coming up...here's your chance to skip...you've been warned.
After about an hour after getting my drugs, my doctor came in to check things. She found that I had progressed to a...3. Wait, that's not progression. That's exactly where I'd been 14 hours earlier. I hadn't progressed at all. I'd been in active labor the whole time but gotten nowhere. She decided to break my water with that SCA-HARY gigantor knitting needle-looking thing. Thank goodness I was all numbed up (although she said it wouldn't have felt any different than an exam anyway. Whatever; that sucker was ridiculous.) It completely freaked me out when she broke my water. It. Would. Not. Stop. The nurses changed the bed pad twice within minutes. My OBGYN said, "Wow, Erin...that's a lot of water. There's got to be a gallon already, and it's not even close to done." This from a woman who does this for a living.

I looked at Brad with my freaked-out eyes, and he said, "Hey, you're that much closer to your pre-pregnancy weight."

Good man. Too bad he's mine and off the market, ladies. ;)

I probably didn't mention this about the mag earlier, but I wasn't allowed out of bed while hooked up to it; meaning they made me use a bedpan. which meant I worked hard to mind-over-matter it, as bedpans are NOT my thing. When she broke my water, she had a nurse put in a catheter. Thankfully, I couldn't feel her put it in. Unfortunately, I did find it really uncomfortable for the rest of the night. After that, my doctor left me for a couple of hours to keep working toward readiness. I was actually able to fall asleep for a while, which was awesome.

Awesome until I started dreaming about contractions. I woke up and thought maybe I was feeling one. But, that couldn't be right; I had an epidural. I asked the nurse to check the contraction chart thing, and we looked at it for a few minutes. Sure enough, I was feeling every single one. I gave myself a few hits of the extra epidural medication, hoping to calm it down (they hook you up to this little pump and trigger so that you can get more, if you need it. Which I did.)

After about 20 minutes, I was feeling everything, and they sent for the resident anesthesiologist from earlier (who was a very very nice doctor. Truly.) He checked me all over to see what I could and could not feel (poking me with small, sharp objects and checking my reflexes). There was about a 3-inch radius on my stomach where I couldn't feel anything. I definitely felt everything else. He ended up administering two boluses of medicine, which everyone promised would do the trick.

They did. For about 20 minutes. At this point, I started panicking. If they couldn't get the drugs to work, was I going to have to deliver naturally with no preparation for the process?

My doctor came in again around 6:00pm (26 hours into labor, for those keeping track). She checked me again, and I felt all the discomfort of both the exam and the catheter. I also had a ton more fluid. I started crying a bit, because 1) I was exhausted and 2) I was still thinking about how my pain management option was dissolving before my eyes, and I was still expected to give birth, despite my lack of a pain management plan that I approved of.

Guess what she found during her exam. I had gotten *almost* to 4 cm. HOW had I gotten basically nowhere? I simultaneously started full-out sobbing in fear and uncontrollably shaking. Shaking like someone suffering from hypothermia, but I wasn't remotely cold.

My doctor asked me to try to explain what exactly was causing the panic. I sobbed and stuttered through trying to explain my fear about the failure of the epidural. I guess no one had caught her up, because her reaction was an "Oh, we can fix that. We'll get them to bring in a couple boluses." My nurse explained that we already tried. My doctor's confused "Oh..." did nothing to help my state of being.

I was still shaking and crying and fretting, so she patted my leg and said that she wanted to stop the Pitocin and labor monitoring for an hour. She wanted me to take a nap and give myself an hour break from the stress and discomfort. She wanted the nurses to leave me alone and just wanted me to rest, even though it meant my contractions would slow down.

I was immediately calmer. Still shaking but so much more tranquil. I could have hugged her (if I hadn't been bed-bound by the mag).

So I rested. I didn't sleep, but I listened to worship music, prayed, and calmed down. Brad took a gurney nap, and I thought about Claire Bear. I kept trying to imagine what she'd look like- specifically if she'd look like a lot of newborns who are all red and wrinkly and covered in slimy stuff that makes me frightened. I rather hoped she wouldn't, but I was determined to love her anyway. :)

I particularly listened to the song, "Jesus I Am Resting, Resting." On repeat on my iPod. Very appropriate, no?

I have an album of Jesus music done by Grace Community Church. I absolutely love it and turn to it especially in times of stress and difficulty. Theirs is an "updated" version of this hymn, and it was extremely comforting to me. I listened and rested and played a few songs on repeat.

 Until 7:00 pm and step 2 of "Operation: Let's Try This Again" rolled around.

Originally posted 3/8/13: Where has the laboring gotten me?
Although I didn't fall asleep, I was able to calm down in mind and spirit. I spent a lot of time praying. My prayers weren't necessarily coherent or logical; they were more of the "help-Lord-don't-think-I-can-please-keep-my-baby-safe" variety, but thankfully, He's willing to listen to our hearts, whether or not we're eloquent.

At the end of the hour, a new nurse came in. I thought I recognized her, but I couldn't figure out how or why. Thankfully, she cleared it up for us: we had been in a few days earlier for a few hours and had briefly met her. She told us her name was Laura, and she had been hoping she'd be working when we came in to have our baby. It completely warmed my heart and continued keeping my spirits calm.

Laura restarted the pitocin and talked with Brad and me off and on. One thing I appreciated, though, was that she didn't continually come in and out in a way that kept interrupting our ability to chill and wait out more labor. That part of being in the hospital was one of the most difficult to adjust to: the constant in-and-out of the health care workers, no matter how nice they may be.

My contractions restarted, and I could still feel them. I used my little epidural pump over and over. It didn't really help, but I tried to placebo myself. Laura kept tabs on how much pain I was feeling how often so that my health care team could stay on top of the situation. I tried really hard not to think about how I was going to manage the pain effectively during the delivery. I could feel the contractions getting stronger and was trying to act like a big girl (I definitely don't think that I was fulfilling that goal very well).

We continued the contraction monitoring (group activity) and breathing through the contractions (solo activity) for two and a half more hours until my doctor came back in. I just knew she was going to tell me it was time to get this show on the road. I mean, I'd been in labor for 30 hours at this point. How much more could I possibly have left?

I bet you can see where this story is headed. My doctor checked me again and just looked at me. I could read it in her face.

Me: Do you want to do a c-section?

Dr.: (nods very sympathetically). Erin, you're still only at 4 cm. Maybe 4 centimeters. You've been in labor for more than 24 hours, and this is as far as we've gotten. I think it would be best to go ahead with a c-section. I know that a c-section was never in your plan, but I think we need to do it, and I think we should do it now.

Me: (deep breath) Ok. If you think that's best, I trust your judgment. 

I had sort of mentally prepared for the fact that a c-section could happen, although I didn't think it terribly likely. So far in the process, I had been induced (not part of the plan) and told I needed a c-section (definitely not part of the plan). I guess I resigned myself to the fact that I had no control over the situation, and I needed to do what was best for Claire (and, though it sounds selfish, for me, as well). 

As soon as that brief conversation concluded, things kicked into high gear. People came out of the woodwork (found out that it was a slow night in Labor and Delivery so everyone wanted in on the action. Plus, Brad and I had interacted with a lot of the staff at this point. Maybe they felt that they knew us...?).

Nurses came in to prep me and hook/unhook me from stuff. Lights were flipped on and various things were moved around the room. They gave Brad a stack of scrubs and head/shoe coverings so that he could go into surgery with me. Finally. I needed him around, and apparently, hospital folks liked to separate us. Not ok, hospital. Not ok. Thanks for finally cooperating.

As these things were happening and my head was whirling with the speed and flurry of everything that was happening, another doctor came in and introduced himself to me. Another anesthesiologist. He explained that he was going to check me to see how effective the epidural had been. I tried to tell him that I knew it wasn't effective, but he still wanted to poke me with a small, sharp object.

He told me that he was going to start by poking me around my ribs where the epidural was never intended to numb. Then, he was going to continue poking around the parts of me that were supposed to be numb and wanted me to tell him if the subsequent pokes were the same in intensity as the one at my rib, if the pokes were duller, or if I felt nothing at all. My first few answers? I actually said that the pokes felt sharper. Brad pointed out that "sharper" wasn't one of my answer choices.

Oops. 

Not my fault that he didn't provide me with enough choices with which to answer. Also not my fault that it was baffling to him that my epidural (plus two boluses, plus multiple additional hits from my little pump) didn't work. I did, however, fully expect him to figure out a way to make something work so that I would be completely unaware of the major surgery happening to me in the next few minutes. I knew there was no way that they had ever encountered a patient that they couldn't numb up sufficiently for a c-section. 

I had lots of faith in their ability to shoot me up with enough medication to make the c-section happen. Technically, they did...just not the way I expected. Really, though, I should have expected the unexpected at this point, right?

Originally posted 3/9/13: Got anesthesia? I sort of do...
Following my whirlwind c-section prep and surprising anesthesia consult, I found myself being wheeled from my room and down the hall. There were about 5 or 6 folks getting me from point A to point B (I'm telling ya, it was a slow night, and I was the most interesting thing going on). 

Around this point in the evening, I started a gosh awful headache, which I chalked up to stress and exhaustion. It didn't really feel like my usual exhaustion/stress headaches, but it seemed logical to me that I'd be stressed and tired. All I knew was that I felt like the top of my head was being separated from the rest of me, which was exacerbated as they moved me from my dimly-lit room into the extremely well-lit operating room. I get migraines, so I completely understand head pain. However, this was unlike any headache I'd ever experienced. Such a different kind of pain and in a very different location than my "normal" migraines (if you can call migraines normal).

Small Ew: On top of this, my catheter was killing me. How strange is it that my catheter discomfort was at the forefront of my mind, as I was heading toward major surgery?

Once we arrived in the OR, I didn't know how (on top of that dratted catheter) I was going to handle the headache; the lights of the OR were so bright, I couldn't open my eyes all the way and ended up just clutching my head, wishing I had some kind of vice to continue applying pressure to it. I kept thinking that I would ask Brad to hold my head during the surgery...once they finally let him in. He had to wait in the hallway until they got my spinal block/anesthesia set up.

Getting the spinal had me nervous; I knew I was going to have to go through the same routine as the epidural insertions, and I was not looking forward to it. And, of course, Brad wasn't in there with me. Again. 

I had to move from my hospital bed onto an operating table, and I had the hardest time because of my catheter. A couple of nurses were helping me move, and I had to ask them to slow down and pause a couple of times. One of them asked, "Oh, are you having a contraction?" I said, "No, it's my catheter." The other nurse said, "The catheter from your epidural?" And I had to say, "No...the...uh...other kind. It's hurting me." Thankfully, they seemed to understand and helped me move very slowly. They also passed along the message to anyone else who tried to hurry me along. Helpful...and a taddy bit humiliating.

Once I finally got moved over to the other table, I had to get into the same sitting/bending/bowed-back position as they had me in for the epidural(s) several hours earlier. My head was pounding and aching, so while they had me bending over the table beside the edge of operating table, I held my head in my hands to keep the aching at bay. Unfortunately, the anesthesiologist (the one I had just spoken to in my room) needed me to drop my arms and "relax" (yeah, right) to get things set up. Laura came to my rescue; she came and stood in front of me (like Peggy had earlier when she held my hands during my epidural) and told me to rest my head in her hands (she knew I had a headache). What an angel- she literally held my head in her hands. It was such a blessing in the midst of a very chaotic and unnerving process. 

I had a lot of the same warnings for a "big pinch" and a "big sting" that I'd had earlier in the day. Someone explained to me that the spinals are a little different, in the sense that they penetrate a different depth. Or something. Follow the wiki link a few paragraphs up, if you really want to know. :) I discovered quickly that, whatever the difference, it still hurt. And, much like my epidural attempts, the spinals didn't go that well, either. The first one was extremely reminiscent of earlier in the day; I heard the doctors muttering to one another and was then told that the first attempt didn't work. I could stretch my back and relax for a moment before they made another attempt. 

Wow. That was way too familiar.

We went at it again; Laura held my head, I tried to keep from crying so that I could hold still, and the anesthesiologists tried again.

There wasn't as much talking about what was going on, but I also didn't hear anyone saying happy things like, "Got it" or "There we go." Next thing I knew, I was being told I could stretch again. Far too familiar. 

Another anesthesiologist came over to do the third attempt. I'll spare you a lengthy retelling and just let you know that the third spinal finally went in.

I had to move to yet another table, but this time, at least everyone was well-versed in my catheter pain and achy head. I had lots of support and help, which made me love the staff. 

They strapped me down to the operating table (let's take a moment and reflect on how being strapped down does not provide comfort and calm) and gave me about 5 minutes before one of the anesthesiologists explained that he was going to test my reflexes to see how the medication was spreading.

I felt every poke. I was able to push my legs against the resistance. And, I could completely bend my legs at the knees. They decided to give me a few more minutes to let the medicine take effect. I caught a glimpse of my doctor's face, and she looked rather annoyed with the pain management folks. 

After the hiatus, the anesthesiologist returned for another reflex test. Guess who could STILL feel everything and move extremities. If you guessed me, you win! I tried not to panic, but it's rather frightening to realize that you're about to have surgery performed on you and everything is still feel-able.

The doctors muttered with one another for a minute or two and then explained that they were going to have to put me under general anesthesia. 

I'd had a feeling. Good news: I wouldn't feel the catheter or my head anymore.

After that decision was made, the scurrying and flurrying started up again. Someone had me breathing through an oxygen mask while one of the doctors pumped medicine into my i.v. It buuuuuuurned. And stung. And hurt. That's probably why they strapped me down. They knew what they were doing. 

They last few thoughts I remember having before going under were:
1. I hope she is actually a "she" and not secretly a boy that I'm not prepared for.
2. Brad isn't here again. 

Then, I drifted off into oblivion. Whew. What a relief. 

To be continued...