What a Weekend!

Please note: the content of this post was actually written about 5 weeks ago, but when you read it I think you'll understand why.

This weekend I had a baby. The events unfolded like this:


Friday, January 4, 2008: I have been suffering from cramps off and on for quite some time and at around 9pm the cramps are joined by an abdominal pain. A pain which feels like somebody is trying to stretch your cervix -- which, as it turns out, they are. (Note: Why are contractions called contractions and not cramps? I might have figured out that I was in labour quite a bit sooner had that been the case).




At around 10pm I decide that regardless of the cause of my pain it is bad enough to risk going to the hospital only to be sent home -- which I was not.




We arrive at the assessment room of North York General Hospital and a little Phillipino lady directs me to one of the gurnies and provides me with a gown. Some incalculable time later she takes my blood pressure and sticks her hand up my crotch in order to determine whether or not I should be admitted. I am informed that I am dilated 4 or 5 centimetres and that I have done a good job. Would I like an epidural? Oh yes -- and let's not waste any time asking me twice. I am rewarded for my "good job" by being admitted into the hospital and taken to one of the labour and delivery rooms by a lovely nurse named Nas and where I am greeted by the anesthesiologist for whom I have asked to give me an epidural -- and she does! I am also hooked up to a catheter to avoid having to get up to use the toilet. Shortly thereafter I am laying comfortably in the bed. It is 11:45 pm and I have been joined by my husband who is happy to see me smiling now. Turns out I've been in labour for about 2 1/2 hours and that was about all I felt I needed to endure. Now, I am surprised when Nas informs me that the computer says I am having a contraction. I feel as though I could happily fall asleep.




This, of course is not possible because approximately every 30 minutes or so, my blood pressure and temperature are taken. I am also wearing a fetal heart monitor around by abdomen as well as a monitor for contractions. However, I am contentedly laying on my side enjoying a pain free labour and wondering when my water will break. I wonder why I know women who did not want an epidural and I feel badly for those who did, but could not get one in time.


Saturday, January 5, 2008: At 1:30 am Dr. Peridot (the on-call doctor for the evening shift -- who, when I caught a glimps of him in the assessment room on arrival, I thought might be a drunk nurse who was just sleeping off a bender -- not the case at all by the way) comes to check me out and manually breaks my water in an attempt to speed things along. The short of it is, despite my now broken water and the Pitocin I've been given to induce labour, I am not really making that much progress. I am still around 4 or 5 cm. So, we wait.


At 4am I am informed that I have a temperature likely due to an infection (what sort, I have no idea), which I am being treated for with an I.V. drip. Now I am hooked up to the I.V. the two monitors and the epidural and the catheter, but still I am content, knowing that sometime soon, I will be having my baby.


It is now 6:45 am and the shift at the hospital is about to change. Dr. Peridot tells me that while my fever is under control, the baby's heart rate in response to the fever is seriously high and has not gone down. We may be having a C-section as a result. I am disappointed. While I was prepared for all sorts of unpleasant things in regard to giving birth, I had not anticipated surgery. We decide that the morning doctor, Dr. Smith (a lovely lady who is also expecting) will determine the amount of risk involved in waiting for further dilation versus removing the baby via C-section. My husband is sheet white and woozy at the talk of elevated heart rates and surgery. His head is between his knees. God bless him.


By about 10am Dr. Smith has determined that the labour is not progressing quickly enough and in the best interest of the baby we will be doing the C-section. We prepare to do so. As I am being transferred onto the gurney that will take me to the O.R. the baby's heart rate drops suddenly very low and I am now on my way to an emergency C-section. As I am prepped for my surgery moments later, the baby's heart rate returns to normal -- no cause for concern -- however I feel as though I've had better days by this point. My husband joins me in the O.R. I am opened up and at 10:24 am my baby girl is safely taken from the womb and delivered into the hands of the pediatrician. I am overwhelmed at the sight of her and at the same time distracted by the surgery I am still having.


My husband is given the baby -- a healthy, happy little girl and I twist my head to look at her the best I can. Eventually he takes her to the recovery room where I join them after I have been closed up again. Please note: coming down off of all of the drugs you get for a C-section causes one to shiver uncontrollably for quite some time. While I am being wheeled into recovery, I am shaking so vehemently that I am wondering if I will be able to hold my baby.


As it turns out, I am just fine. We are placed together skin-to-skin and she heads immediately for the breast -- no problems latching on there! From recovery, we are wheeled to a "semi-private" room where we will stay for the next 3 days (or until a private room is available).


Things blur a bit at this point. I have been awake for most of the last day and a half and have undergone major surgery and become a new mother. We make phone calls to inform our family of the new addition: 7lbs, 11 oz, female, 10:24 am, etc. I am still on the I.V. and catheter and am swollen to the point of bursting. However, I am also still mostly numb from the waist down, so the discomfort is fairly minimal. I am told by the nurse to let her know when I pass gas. Until I do, I am on a strictly liquid diet -- I do not pass gas until the next afternoon incidentally, a bizarre turn of events for anyone who knows me, and as a result have soup, juice and jello for breakfast, lunch and dinner until then.


4pm My parents turn up with Mojo to see the new baby. After they leave, father-in-law makes an appearance and after his departure both of our brothers, their partners and kids visit. At 7pm the shift changes again. I meet the most important woman of my weekend and possibly my life: Nan. Nan the wonder-nurse.


Nan the night nurse is the best woman I have ever known. She is not only firmly gentle, but knowledgable, approachable, kind. The list goes on. I come to rely on her competence and kindness to balance out the day nurse, who is the only complaint I have about my time at NYGH. I won't mention her by name, but despite her very friendly demeaner, she was neither truly helpful nor comforting. Nan, on the other hand, deserves a nursing award. She diligently replaced my I.V. bags and asked me if I would like some Benedryl for the itching that I must be experiencing from the morphine in the epidural -- All day I went, scratching myself as though I had fleas, and she is the only person to ask me if I'd like a little relief -- not to mention, explains why I need the relief -- I figured I was allergic to something and that I'd just have to suffer through. Not at all. Thanks to Nan the wonder-nurse. She helps me to the toilet when I realize that my catheter is not draining properly and helps me change the CRAZY obstetrical pads one wears after having a baby which the day nurse glanced at and said I'd be fine in before making a dash for the door at the end of her shift. Nan is lovely and I do not feel awkward or embarassed in the least. At 10 pm she comes in to demonstrate for us how to bathe our new baby. She gives me information about what to expect after I get home. And best of all, she is there to guide and support us the following night as well.


Sunday, January 6, 2007: Hubby has been forced to spend the previous night sleeping draped over three chairs, in his clothes due to the unexpected surgery. I send him home to clean himself up and get a little shut eye before returning later that afternoon. And to my delight, by about 1 or 2pm, we have been informed that the private room we have been waiting for is now ready. Though we were in our own room that night, we were not alone. Baby's second night was being attended by Nan the wonder nurse and let me tell you that that woman gave us more useful information in the two nights that we knew her than anybody has ever given us in our whole lives. Like a phantom she disappeared with the shift change the following day, but we will be indebted to her for as long as we live. Our only regret is that we were not able to thank her properly for her help and kind words.



By Monday, the staff has changed yet again and we are getting eager to leave. Sort of. I have to admit that upon discharge Tuesday morning, I am feeling weepy and truly distressed that I will have to carry on at home without the help of Nan. Pathetic, I know, but true nonetheless.

We make it home without too much difficulty and I am glad to be home (despite my misgivings at the hospital). And so the adventure begins....