(This is a continuation of the first part of his story. You may want to read the first entry, Hello World! first.)
So after a few minutes, they moved us into a Labor & Delivery room. And it got REAL. De was hooked up with two waistband-type things that listened to the baby's heartbeat and sensed contractions. (That swooshing sound that represented his heartbeat was one of the most reassuring sounds in the world.) As per our promise to our parents, we called one we were admitted and settled in that room. De's parents went to our house to grab the few things we'd need, and my parents brought in food.
Over the next few hours, they gave De a pill that helped the uterus efface, and started the contraction process, though they were very, very minor. One of the nurses made sure we knew that even though they had officially "induced" her, it was unlikely the baby would come that night, and unsure if even tomorrow. So we all sat around, laughed, ate, and generally anticipated the next day's events, and enjoyed what would become the most memorable Father's day in my life. At about 11:30, I finally talked the Moms out of spending the night in the waiting room, promising to call them if ANYTHING had changed. That included my promise to update them when the next check came through at 2:00 AM.
2:00 AM came and went without much progress, still at about 1 cm, still no serious contractions. So they doubled the dose of the induction pill (not Pitocin, one I'd never heard of). By now, De's blood pressure was much more regular, and she was sleeping, if not altogether comfortably. The room was very nice, and much bigger than I expected, including a bathroom that itself dwarfs most dorm-rooms. I slept, though I bounced out of bed at the smallest of sounds, and I wouldn't necessarily call it rest, more like not-fully-awake-time.
Morning rolled around, and De had made it to 2cm. Contractions were starting to get uncomfortable, though not at all unbearable. The graveyard nurse headed home, and a new nurse came on duty, which meant one thing -- alarm about De's swelling. Every new nurse that came on initially went, "OMG, that's a problem!" but eventually realized they'd been that way for months, and it was OK. By mid-morning, the Moms had arrived, and the nurse started a pitocin drip, and the contractions got much more serious, though still not terribly painful. One of the midwives, Vivian, came in and checked De out, and said everything was looking good, just a waiting game.
The rest of the morning, into the afternoon went pretty much the same way, slow progress, but some progress. By mid-afternoon, the contraction-pain had escalated to a point where we were discussing starting an epidural. De was reluctant because the pain wasn't too bad, but the midwife pointed out that once the pain gets to a certain point, you're kind of behind the game and it can be tough to catch up, and many women relax enough after the epidural sets in, that progress speeds up a lot. So we decided to start the epidural, and in comes the "Scary Waiver" where they list all the terrible things that could possibly happen as a result of the epidural. Thanks for the stress, hospital-lawyers.
Vivian was right, and once the epidural kicked in De's contractions got a bit more fierce. They also upped the pitocin a bit, and things got moving a little bit more seriously. Vivian decided that she'd to a cervical check, and probably break the water. We activated our plan, and asked the family to give us the room for the cervical check, as that's a pretty intense ordeal.
However, once they got De leaned back enough, and "got into position" to break the bag of waters, the baby experienced what they called a "Decel" -- basically his heart rate dropped below normal levels. It was then that I realized his heart-rate and mine were in a very much inverse relationship. His had dropped, but everything in me was speeding up! They quickly propped De back up, and his heart-rate got back to normal. I knew something was up, though, because Vivian said she'd have to go write a report on the Decel.
After another hour or so of relaxing, Dr. Jones came in, and told us that Vivian was attending a C-Section, and while she was watching the FHR (fetal-heart-rate) on her monitor (they have some pretty awesome technology there, every on-call room, nurse's station, NICU desk, and patient room has a screen that shows FHR and Contraction rate of every woman in Labor & Delivery hooked up to a monitor, so they can watch everybody), she noticed his heart-rate dipping during each contraction. She said she wanted to break De's water, and install what they call a fetal-scalp-probe to get a better read on the baby. I later found out, that probe is nothing more than a coil of wire resembling a spring that they hook (screw) into the baby's head and monitor heart-rate that way. They also put in an IUCP (Intra-uterine contraction probe) that monitors uterine pressure and displays a much more accurate read on contractions.
I was holding De's leg when they broke her waters, and out gushed green fluid. The nurses didn't like the sight of that, as it meant there was meconium (poo) in the water, indicating fetal distress. Which meant that I didn't like seeing it either. But the FSP and IUCP were getting good reads, and the baby looked like he was doing good. Dr. Jones told us that she was going into a C-Section in a few minutes, and that she would do another check when she came out, but if he was still declining during contractions, she would probably want to do a C-Section. Again, cue flood of emotions. De and I had a huddle, figured out our plan, cried out to God for strength, peace, calm and provision, and then we regrouped. We figured that we had about an hour before we knew for sure, so we decided to give it some time before we told anybody. The doctor said they'd inject some saline into the uterus to give him some wiggle room, and she said she was also going to tickle his head to stimulate him. About that time, we hear the code-blue alarm go off, and the nurse ran out of the room. (Code Blue means somebody's crashing -- dying basically -- and calls for all available hands to get to that patient's room ASAP. We later found out it was another Mom, but it was just a seizure, and she and baby are fine now. But I later heard that when the code-blue went out over the intercom, which can be heard from the waiting room, it went something like, "Code Blue, 3rd floor, Labor and Delivery, Room 10." So all the family in the waiting room panicked, because it wasn't until the end of the message that they heard it wasn't our room.) As the doctor reached in to tickle his head, the FHR monitor fell silent. Flat-line. My heart stopped too. I shouted, "What's going on?!" and she told me she'd knocked the probe off accidentally, baby was still OK. I helped her open a new probe, and a few seconds later we had the heart-rate again. I think that 10-second panic took a year off my life.
About five minutes later, Dr. Jones returned, and told us she arranged for two more doctors to come in, so they could do both C-Sections at once. She seemed relieved, but it didn't seem like good news to us. I told De that even though we didn't feel ready, I needed to tell our parents because it'd be another 2 hours before she'd be out, and they needed an update. Before I could leave, they brought in my surgical suit, and I realized they weren't wasting any time. I walked out into the waiting room with tears on the verge of breaking through. I got about the first 5 sentences out, and then the dam broke and I cried loudly. My Dad hugged me, said it'd be OK, and had me take those deep breaths. I told them we didn't know all the details, but baby needed to be born now, so they were taking her into OR. I'd update as soon as I had any info.
By the time I got back into our room, they'd started to move De out, and I kept thinking "this is happening way too fast." They wheeled De into the OR, which is scary and clinical. They stopped me at the door, and told me I'd have to wait until she was prepped. About 20 different doctors, nurses, and others ran past me into the OR, grabbing sterile gear as they went. When there was a break of people, I let my tears out and sobbed, then sucked it up when somebody came in. A nurse saw me, as she was suiting up, and asked me if I was Dad. When I said yes, she grabbed me in a big bear hug and said, "I'm Kim, and I'll be in there. It'll be OK." I think I only waited about 5 minutes for them to prep her, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, a doctor or nurse or someone came in and said, OK Dad, they're ready for you!
(to be continued...)
No comments:
Post a Comment