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I was 34 weeks gestation when I woke up early New Year's morning 1996 with spotting. I had spotted earlier in this pregnancy, and with the previous two as well, but never this late. I just attributed it to the fact that I had overdone it during the holidays. My Mom and Dad were visiting for New Year's, as was my best friend, Melissa (six months pregnant with her first child), and her husband, David. We had quite a houseful of people, and the day before we had been shopping all day for baby supplies. I remember getting home and having this need to put everything together, the bassinet, the car seat/stroller/carrier contraption, and the swing. Everyone told me to do it later. After all, I still had six weeks to go. But I insisted on doing it right then. I didn't even think of it being the "nesting stage". Then, we stayed up until 3 a.m. to celebrate the New Year.
Around 8 a.m. on Jan. 1st, the bleeding wasn't getting any lighter, and I began to get concerned. I told my husband Adam, and he suggested I call the medical advice nurse. She urged me to go to the hospital to get a stress test. The car trip up was quiet and worrisome. I didn't even think about delivering, I was just worried something was wrong with Michael (we knew it was a boy three weeks before he was born during a sonogram). I remember thinking, "Kick me Michael, come on, let me feel you kick, so I'll know you are still alive!", and boy did he give me a hard kick!
When we got to the hospital, around 10:30 a.m., I was immediately hooked up to a machine to monitor any contractions. At this point I was having very mild ones. By 11:30 a.m., though, they were getting stronger. It was a pain like I had never felt before, a very strong, uncontrollable pain. The machine was not doing a very good job of showing these contractions, and Adam could tell I was uncomfortable. At 11:45 a.m., the nurse (I had still not been seen by a doctor) told me that she had spoken with the doctor, and he said they would probably send me home, because I didn't seem to be progressing. She did an internal exam to see if I had dilated and I was still at 0. Then she left the room. I told Adam that something was wrong. I didn't feel right, the pain was too intense, and I was afraid to go home.
At 12:15 p.m., 30 minutes after the nurse checked me, Dr. Brown came in and told me he was going to do a quick internal exam, to make sure I hadn't dilated, but he was going to send me home with strict bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy, I thought, "Yeah, right, I'm in a tremendous amount of pain, you want to send me home to bed and make me stay put with a 3-year-old and an 18-month-old, you are nuts!" During his exam, I saw his eyes get big and he told me I was six centimeters dilated. I was only 34 weeks! It was crazy.
Dr. Brown said I had two options, and I immediately started to cry. I knew what the options were. I had never been through this problem, but I knew exactly what he was going to say. "Drugs to put off labor, or deliver now." He said he didn't recommend drugs because I was too far along for it to make a difference. Crying, I asked him what complications we were looking at with a baby born 6 weeks early. I had never read up on premature births, I had never needed to do that. Dr. Brown explained that some "34-weekers" often have to be put on a ventilator to help them breathe, until they can learn to breathe on their own. They also have a problem learning to suck/swallow/breathe, making it difficult for bottle or breast feeding at first. Other complications included low birth weight, and apnea problems. After the complications were discussed, he also said that some babies are born without any problems, and are released when the mother goes home. I reluctantly made my decision. I never even looked to Adam to see what he wanted. "Let's go ahead and have the baby", I said.
Dr. Brown left and said he was going to get the Lab to draw blood for an epidural, and because my two previous pregnancies were transverse breech, he would do a quick sonogram to determine what position Michael was in. This would decide vaginal or C-section delivery. Michael was also transverse, so C-section it was.
Everyone left the room after my blood was drawn for the epidural, and I remember telling the lab guy to put a double stat on the epidural, because I was in excruciating pain. He just laughed, and said he'd be back. I told Adam that things were going way to fast for an epidural to be put in. This was probably the most memorable point of the whole delivery, believe it or not. The contraction pain I was feeling at this point was so intense, I wanted to rip my hair out. I always feel so guilty when I say this, but at this point, I didn't care if I lived or died or the baby lived or died, I just wanted this pain to end, and end now!
All of the sudden, the pain was counteracted by this strong need to push. I remember it from my first-born, Kristin's pregnancy, when they didn't realize it was a C-section birth until the last minute. Keep in mind this was only 12:45 p.m. Just a half and hour before, I was six centimeters dilated. I knew they wouldn't have any time for the epidural. I tried to tell them, but they wouldn't listen. I had Adam run and tell the nurse that I had to push. Dr. Brown came in the room and examined me and said, "She's a 10, lets go, there's no time for a section!" They sent Adam to change into scrubs for the surgery.
At this point I had just about had enough. Between the pain, going from 0 to 10 in one hour, the pain, the thought of all the stress a premature baby would bring, the pain, and now he says I'm going to deliver vaginally? "I have never done this," I thought, "Is he crazy?" "Knock me out and take my baby C-section," I told him, "You guys can do this in 5 minutes, I've seen it on TV." Dr. Brown told me to calm down. Since the baby was small enough, he was going to turn Michael so he would be able to get through the birth canal. "Your going to do WHAT???", I thought.
The next thing I knew, I was laying down with my feet in stirrups and this painful need to push. I told him I couldn't hold back any longer, so he told me to push. I did. My water broke, and the next thing I heard was Dr. Brown telling a nurse, "I told you to get out of the way." My water broke on the nurse that had been helping me all afternoon. "Serves her right for wanting to send me home!" :-)
At this point, Adam came in the room with scrubs on. The last he heard, they were doing a C-section. When he heard Dr. Brown say "Push", he thought he was in the wrong room! I pushed two more times when I heard Michael cry. It wasn't a very loud cry, or a very long one, but it was a cry nonetheless.
Michael was born bottom-first, with his feet touching his face. He had a tremendous amount of bruising on the entire backside of his body due to the stress and strain of the delivery. After realizing the pain that Michael went through, it made mine seem almost non-existant.
They whisked my only son off to NICU where he stayed for 11 days. During the NICU stay, I was there to see him everyday. I'll never forget the scrubbing of our hands and arms we had to do every single day, the hospital gowns we had to dress in. Our family was very fortunate because Michael's only problem was the suck/swallow/breathe routine. He was fed via gavage tube (a tube that runs through his nose down to his stomach) for seven of the 11 days. His pediatrician said if Michael didn't have this problem, she would have thought my due date was miscalculated. Michael weighed 5 pounds, 13 ounces, and was 19 inches long. Doctors predicted he would have been a 9-pound baby if he went to term.
When Michael was six weeks old (adjusted age--1 day old), we were visiting my mother and father in San Antonio for my mom's birthday. We had decided to go out to eat to celebrate her birthday and Michael's adjusted birthday when Michael started crying nonstop. He screamed and cried for over two hours. We all thought it might have been colic, until I decided to change his diaper. I noticed he had a large bump on the left side of this groin. When I showed my mother, she suggested we go to the ER at Methodist Hospital as it didn't look normal. After 2 hours of more screaming, Michael was diagnosed with an Incarcerated Bilateral Hernia, (a condition often common in premature boys) and emergency surgery was to follow. Here we were in another city and my precious son needed to go through surgery. I cried during the entire procedure thinking, "What else can my poor baby go through?!?!" He came out of surgery with flying colors, and there is not one trace of a scar on either side of his groin area today.
Michael now, at 6 years of age, outweighs his 6-year-old sister, Rebekah. He weighs 54 pounds. This puts him in the 75th percentile category for weight and height.
I realize that a lot of premature babies have a more difficult start than Michael did, and we can only continue praying for them and hoping for the best. Please know that our thoughts are with all the "little ones" out there. Keep fighting ..it's a wonderful world!!
Many thanks also to the wonderful doctors and nurses at Medical City Dallas Hospital in Dallas, TX. Especially the NICU nurses who did such a wonderful job with Michael.
"....I believe there are angels among us, sent down to us from somewhere up above. They come to you and me in our darkest hours, to show us how to live, to teach us how to give, to guide us with the light of love….." Alabama (dedicated to Edward Andrew Breier and Charles Peterson--RIP)
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