I woke up around 5:30 am May 9th and during my morning rituals, I felt as though my water may have broken, but I wasn’t sure. (I am sure a lot of you mothers out there know EXACTLY what I mean.) I figured I’d call the doc when their offices opened at 8:30. I had an appointment scheduled for 11:30 anyway. My husband was in bed and when I tried to ask his opinion (about what I should do) he just mumbled and went back to sleep.
Well, I started having contractions about an hour later. They were mild and anywhere from 11-15 minutes apart. So, I called at 8:30. The doc told me to just wait and come in at my appointment. By my appointment time the contractions were ranging from 6-11 minutes apart and stronger. My doula met my husband and I at our apartment and we went to the doc’s together. I told the doctor what happened and he said he didn’t think I’d have the baby that day. He said he wasn’t convinced my water had broken. (Later I found out that he should have tested the fluid….but he didn’t.) Anyway, I had an erratic pattern of contractions FOREVER. They ranged from 4-20 minutes. When I had a 40 minute lull, my doula went home (this was around 7 or 8 pm). Of course, they picked back up and stayed around 9 minutes apart for several hours. I was so tired (remember, they started at 6:30 am and at this point I was watching Craig Ferguson) and kept falling asleep between the contractions. By 5:30 am on May 10th, they were 5 minutes apart and lasting 1 minute each. So, we called the doula and drove the 5 minute drive to the hospital.
After 2 hours, I asked for an epidural. I wanted to go the natural route but I was already so exhausted from lack of sleep that I didn’t figure I’d make it through labor. I was disappointed in myself but begging for some rest. So, I got the epidural. My contractions lost their pattern again. I was dilating and effacing and the baby was moving down, but slowly. They gave me the dreaded pitocin (just another note in my birth plan that got crossed off) in a small dose around 2:30 pm (I think) and that helped a bit. Then they gave me a little more. I was 90% effaced but stuck at 7 cm dilation. The baby’s head was coned as much as it could be. Finally the doctor told me I’d have to have a C-Section. I cried and cried but agreed. I’d never had any major surgery before and was scared I wouldn’t make it.
So, I’m completely numb, cold, doped on Morphine or something and they slice into me. The baby comes out and doesn’t really cry. I heard a couple of strange sounding wails. I ask what’s going on. My husband doesn’t say much. I see the doctors whiz by my head, holding the baby. My husband follows. A few minutes later I hear an intercom call, “Respiratory Team to Neonatal Unit.” I sob silently as they stitch me up. My doctor comes a few minutes later and says, “I am sorry to tell you this now, but your baby is having some trouble and is being transported to St. V’s.” I felt empty, half hoping I’d die on that table. I was wheeled to a recovery area. Nurses and doctors kept coming by and talking. I didn’t hear them. I didn’t speak. I just cried. My husband came and told me that he saw the baby and he was ok (I guess meaning “alive”) and he asked if I wanted my family to come. I shook my head “no.” I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to be awake. I didn’t know if I’d even get to see my baby at all, the sweet little man I’d grown to love so much over the course of my pregnancy.
Eventually, I was wheeled to the postpartum recovery area, making a brief stop by the nursery. The doctor held my baby up to a window, 15 feet away. I was taken to my room. Doctors flooded in and they told me my son had diaphragmatic hernia, a very serious condition, and that he was in critical condition. They said that they got about 5-6 cases of this at St. V’s every year, with babies coming from all over the country, and they told me he’d have to have an operation. I was relieved that it was something fixable. I didn’t realize exactly how serious it was. All I knew is that they said the fastest recovery they’d had was 6 weeks. After an hour or so, they brought the baby to my bedside in his incubator. I was allowed to touch his foot for about 5 minute before he was rushed off. I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again.
I was released from the hospital the morning of May 12th and I went to see my baby in the NICU. He was hooked to all kinds of machines. They explained to me that his diaphragm hadn’t fused properly in the womb and that his intestines had pushed into his chest cavity, crushing/impeding the growth of one lung and pushing his heart and other lung over to the side. They wouldn’t know exactly how bad it was until they got in to do the surgery. The good news was that Lucas kept breathing over his machines, he was strong and had some lung capacity. His surgery was scheduled for May 15th.
The surgery went amazingly well and about as soon as he got out, he progressed leaps and bounds; machinery coming off daily. When he finally got to a place where they were sure he’d come home, it was explained to me that only 40% of kids with his condition (where the hernia is on the left side) survive, and that that statistic is overly optimistic because many times the condition is totally undiagnosed. The babies are stillborn, no one does an autopsy or if they do it’s not seen. Babies with the hernia on the right side don’t survive. I am glad they waited to give me this bit of information. I was already out of my mind and probably would have jumped out of a window had they told me this before. BUT, my baby was fine and getting better everyday. He was in the hospital for a total of 4 weeks.
The day we found our Lucas was going home, the little one in the “pod” next to us passed away. It was a bittersweet day for sure. My heart goes out to all of the NICU parents. It’s such a hard place to be.
So, that’s the story. I’m here typing with my little one on my lap, sleeping after a snuggly breastfeeding with his mama. I feel so lucky and blessed. I’m more happy than I have ever been and finally believe in miracles, so many of them went into bringing my little guy home safely.