My partner and I had a baby. What a whirlwind.
I didn’t want to talk about my pregnancy because it had been so rough. My morning sickness was relentless, day and night. Old back, hip, and knee injuries flared up with a vengeance. My mood was prickly but not terrible, thank goodness. And with all that, the baby was always in good health, which made me so, so happy. But because of other risk factors concerning me (my weight and my age), we decided to be induced right before the 40-week date.
My midwife (who was amazing), advised me to opt for a vaginal birth with c-section being the absolute last resort. I agreed to give it my all but also released all expectations, knowing that they could change based on reactions to the medicine they would give me for the induction.
On Sunday, February 23 at 8 pm, I went in to get induced and it was the wildest, terrifying, grueling, most rewarding experience of my life.
I took a pill, which did not sit well with baby and caused a major panic when nurses swarmed my room, telling me to remain calm, IV fluids dripping, an oxygen mask over my face, me asking, “Why?” and getting “Stay calm and breathe deep” as the only answer…apparently the pill they had given me to start the induction had caused the baby’s heart rate to drop, which sent all the nurses rushing in.
We scrapped that and tried a second medicine. TWICE. Nothing had been changing. I was hoping to dilate comfortably but nothing was happening. We tried a THIRD medicine and around halfway through the second round of medicine #3, I had to make a choice. A c-section was on the table now. I was exhausted but most of all, I was worried about my baby. Were all these medicines causing him trauma? Was my stress of not dilating stressing him? He was painfully in my pelvis, in position to come out but my body was not opening, which made me upset.
After a short chat with the on-call midwife that Tuesday night (remember I had already been there since Sunday night), we decided to go for a c-section. That’s when the real panic set in. I will save that for another post because it was traumatic as hell and I am still trying to shake those memories away… After all that trauma, my son arrived healthy, happy, and in great shape. Thank you, Goddess.
We were in a bubble at the hospital for a full week and by the time we arrived home, it felt like we had come home to another world. I was advised to stay home for the first two weeks of our release because of the emergency c-section, so it was already feeling like quarantine. Now that the two weeks of healing are up, I’m still having to stay home and I’m antsy as hell. I think my baby can feel it, too. We have ventured outside in short bursts but I’m taking this as a blessing in disguise. My son and I can bond more, we can cozy up more, we can connect even more, and for that, I’m grateful.