One Year

On the eve of my darling daughter's first birthday, I'm starting this new journaling adventure. Let's see how it goes.

As my inaugural post I will share Charlotte's birth story.

One year ago today I went to my doctor for what was supposed to be a routine check up. I had just less than 7 weeks to go, so it was the last of my "monthly" appointments, or maybe the first of my semi-weekly appointments, however you want to look at it. Everything was looking good until Dr Rollins went to listen to the heartbeat. She'd never had trouble finding it before, but this time it took her a few tries, and she kept losing it. It also sounded fainter than it had before. After about 5 minutes of checking, she decided I needed to go to ACH for monitoring.

I followed her in my car to ACH, where they put me in a room in the maternity ward and hooked me up to a monitor. They gave me some water, lunch, took an ultrasound, and then told me that in a little while they would do what is called a contraction stress test. Through any of various methods, the uterus is stimulated to contract, and the monitor will pick up the baby's reaction to the contraction(s).

I stayed for three hours, and they performed the test twice. They told me that the test results were inconclusive, but not terrible, and that I needed to go up to the Maternal Fetal Medicine office in Medford. So off I went, driving myself up to Medford.

I got to the MFM office and was almost immediately given an ultrasound. The tech told me the baby looked fine, but maybe have had the cord wrapped around it's neck (I chose not to know the sex until birth), and that may be the cause of the problem, but the doctor would have to make that determination. I went in and spoke with the doctor. He told me that he and my OB wanted me to be monitored at least until after dinnertime that night, if not longer. I was to go check in across the street at Rogue Valley Medical Center, and as soon as his office closed (which was about another hour), he would come see me and make a determination.

6 o'clock rolled around and the doctor came to check on me. He looked at the monitor, and told me that they had decided that I needed to be in the hospital overnight, most likely for a total of 24 hours. I called my boss to tell him I'd be missing work the next day, and I called my close friend and doula, who came to sit with me.

At some point after this (time really started to blur), the baby started having worse and worse dips in heart rate. I ended up only being able to lay on my right side, otherwise all kinds of bells and whistles went off alerting the staff to imminent fetal danger. Around midnight, a nurse came in asking me to sign consent forms for a C-section "just in case". We kept asking to speak to the doctor, but never got anyone to get ahold of him. We asked about induction and were told it wasn't possible. If the problem didn't correct itself overnight, I would have surgery sometime the next day. I asked if it was possible to just go ahead and do it, deliver the baby that night so as not to cause anymore stress to either one of us, and was told that the doctor just wanted to keep an eye on things and not rush into surgery. (This was a male doctor. I have my opinions.)

I didn't get much sleep that night. I watched all of a season of Basketball Wives because it was "the only thing on." Every time I got up to pee, as soon as I laid back down the alarms went off. According to the machine, I was having contractions, but I couldn't feel anything. These minor contractions were causing the baby's heart rate to drop dramatically, and the recovery time was lengthening with each drop. Somewhere around 7am, while waiting for the doctor on call to do rounds and check on me, I actually started to feel significant discomfort. Right about 730am, the doctor came to my room. She (female, and thus other opinions) took one look at my chart and my monitor, and said "we're delivering you now". I called my mom, who immediately rearranged her week and then made the 6 hour drive up. I called my boss to say I wasn't coming into work for the next 8 weeks. I called my doula, who had to leave an hour before to take her daughter to school.

Within half an hour I was being wheeled into and OR. My doula got there just in time to hold my hand through the entire operation. The spinal took three tries because I couldn't sit up without risking destabilizing the baby. Curling up into the fetal position at 8ish mo pregnant is not easy. But thankfully once they got it in right it took affect quickly. They put up a barrier so I couldn't see anything either, which added to the bizarreness of not feeling anything. I remember concentrating on the light above me, the clock on the wall across from me, and the dear, dear friend holding my hand. It was just too surreal.

Then, just before 9am, April 3rd, 2012, like some sort of insane magic, I had a daughter. It took her a few moments to cry, and that is probably the longest I've held my breath. Charlotte Josephine was born at 33 and 4/7 weeks, weighed 4.5 lbs, and had perfect Apgar scores.

And one year later, she is the absolute best thing, birth drama and all, that could ever have happened to me. Ever. I am profoundly grateful every day that I get to wake up to her adorable little face. I can't believe how much she has grown, how she has caught right up in all areas, and how she continues to amaze me with her perpetual discoveries.