argus

It all began with a bottle of castor oil.

Nichole: Now this is not “castROL oil” that you put in cars, so just get that horrid idea out of your mind! Castor oil comes from a bean plant, and resembles vegetable oil in both color, texture, and taste, so honestly, it could have been worse. It is commonly prescribed as a laxative, but I have read many stories of very pregnant women using it to induce labor. Two caveats: 1) you are past the 39-week mark, and 2) you have already been having pre-labor contractions. As of the last week of July I met both criteria, as well as the fact that I was absolutely miserable, and at that point, I would have tried just about anything to get her out.

Robert: I can vouch for the “absolutely miserable” part. When it’s 96 degrees and humid outside and you look like a hippo with a gland problem, it’s obvious that yo… OW! Hey! Joking, joking!!!

N: Monday, July 31st was a rough day. I was so tired of being pregnant, and my doctor’s appointment earlier that day was quite discouraging. My obstetrician seemed pretty flippant about my lack of progress and didn’t seem to have any reason to want to induce. That along with the many, many “Are you in labor yet” phone calls I received that day was enough to send me through the roof. I blame it on the pregnancy hormones.

I had been telling Robert for some time about the castor oil stories, but that it would be an absolute last resort for me. Monday night, both of us were ready for anything. More Robert than me, I’m sure, as I don’t imagine I was the easiest person to live with at that point. (R: I plead the fifth.) Robert decides at 9:30 that night that he’s going to get the castor oil right then, in hopes that I would take it immediately and get this show on the road. I chickened out. I was full from a late dinner, and honestly was afraid that if this old-wives’ tale should work for me, I didn’t want to be up all night pooping, resulting in a late night trip to the hospital, which ultimately meant: no sleep. I am not a night person and that idea did not thrill me at all. We nixed that idea and decided that I would drink the castor oil (in a milkshake to mask the flavor) the following day (Tuesday, Aug. 1st) at 4:00 pm. This would give me 2-3 hours to let the laxative “do its’ thing” before the contractions would begin. Robert was planning on leaving work at 6:00 to be home at 7:00, just in time to take me to the hospital, should that need arise.

R: It’s worth noting here that I had gotten a good chuckle out of all the old wives’ tales regarding pregnancy — my personal favorite was the “there are more births around a full moon” yarn, with its accompanying explanation that the moon affects amniotic fluid just as it affects the tides. So when I heard the “castor oil for inducing labor” spiel, I was naturally skeptical. A bit of research revealed that of all the tales we’d encountered, the castor oil one was the most plausible. So I was guardedly optimistic about The Plan. Little did I know…

N: My sister-in-law, Melissa, had brought me lunch earlier that day and we spent the afternoon walking stores, in hopes to get out of the house…and out of my bad mood. She stayed afterwards while I drank my shake at 4:00 and was still there when my contractions began at 5:37. QUITE a bit earlier than we had planned! Thank goodness she stayed, because my contractions were quite painful and BEGAN at four minutes apart. Melissa called Robert and told him essentially to leave work now and come home. (R: that conversation was abrupt: “Bro, move it. NOW.”) After calling my obstetrician, I decided the best thing to do was get to the hospital, and quick. Not only do we live 45 minutes from the hospital, but it was also rush hour in Atlanta. ‘Nuff said.

R: And it was raining downtown, so add in the “OMG precipitation!!!!1″ factor. Atlanta drivers can’t handle it when water in any form falls from the sky. Not that I was, you know, freaking out or anything. The visions of Nichole’s water breaking while stuck on I575 north — without me there!!! AHHHHHH!! — were doing wonders for keeping me calm, cool and collected.

N: We called Robert back and told him to meet us at the hospital instead of at the house. The drive over was uncomfortable, but definitely manageable. Robert got there before we did and greeted me at the door with a wheelchair. Several minutes later, I was robed and hooked up to monitors. My parents showed up soon thereafter.

R: I’m quite sure the emergency room staff not only wished I hadn’t arrived early, but that I hadn’t arrived at all. I was …energetic about being sure all the paperwork wasn’t going to be a problem, and that we have a wheelchair ready, and.. and..

N: My favorite doctor at the Ob/Gyn I go to was the doc-on-call that night, so I felt that I was supposed to be there, although after an internal exam he told me my cervix still had not dilated past the 1.5cm mark (the same place it was at 33 weeks). I had two choices according to Dr. Siegel: 1) Go home and come back when you’re in “real labor”, or 2) Hang out for a couple more hours and see what happens. I think he was hoping I would choose the first option since all the Labor and Delivery rooms were full, and since I was sitting in a partitioned observation room.

Of course, I chose Option #2. I was there, Robert was there, my parents were there, Robert’s parents were sitting on go in Auburn waiting for the right time to leave (R: I had called my mom earlier in the evening while doing my Mario Andretti impersonation, to let her know that we were at T-minus …something), and I had already called many other friends and family to let them know finally that, we were off to the hospital. So go home? Was he CRAZY?

R: I vote crazy.

N: I walked the halls of North Fulton Regional’s Labor and Delivery ward like a desperate woman pacing in front of Hallmark before they unveil their new ornaments for the year. My cervix would have to dilate in order for them not to send me home. I walked and walked. Mom, Dad, and Robert all took turns “shuffling” with me, and being my support when I stopped every two minutes now, for my contractions.

Dude, did they hurt. Felt like the worst menstrual cramps ever, topped with a rubber band-like feeling around your lower half tightened so tight it felt like it would cut you in half. Enough that it brought tears to my eyes several times. But was it the worst pain I’ve ever experienced? Absolutely not, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I guess Mom was right: you do forget about the pain. If you didn’t, women would never have second children.

R: I dont’ care what Nichole says: watching her deal with these contractions freaked me OUT. Not that it came as a surprise or that I have a weak stomach — I just don’t deal well with helplessness and I don’t deal well with being useless. Being the dad at the birth is a double-dose of futility. Humbling, insane futility. And it was the single most amazing experience of my entire life :)

N: After I came back into the room because the doctor was going to check me again, the contractions got worse. 2 centimeters. All that walking for a half a centimeter. But hey, it was good enough to keep me there. The contractions were so intense and right on top of each other. I requested drugs as soon as possible, and the anesthesiologist was there fairly quickly. He said they usually don’t give epidurals that early in labor, but because he had to go into surgery and wasn’t sure when he would be out, he would go ahead and put mine in.

Thank God for that man! I have no idea how women do this naturally. Eight centimeters to go and contractions were already on top of each other?! Gah. Thankfully, the anesthesiologist has done over 40,000 epidurals. Robert held me steady as I sat on the edge of the bed, and it was in in like five minutes. Hardly felt a thing, just a bit of pressure.

R: Fellas, by way of providing perspective: when you’re in so much pain that having an 11′ PVC pipe inserted into your spinal column is an event you’re thankful for… you’re in a lot of pain. I’ll tell you one of the things I’m thankful for: that it’s not the men that have to do this. I would have been curled up in a ball in the corner, eyes glazed over, wailing like a ninny.

N: Then…heavenly bliss. I started to feel tingly, but was not completely numb. It certainly took the edge off, but it soon wore off and I went back to feeling every contraction. Time for more!!! After the second dose, I was really feeling good…well, feeling nothing at all, and that was beyond wonderful!

Labor was quite enjoyable after that. Time just flew by. I have no idea how five hours felt like five minutes. I had Robert and Mom tell me when I was having a contraction. Even the absolute worst one (most intense on the chart) was not felt.

R: And yes, I was the guy who asked if I could take the contraction printout. They said no, that it went with The Chart and wouldn’t be available until like the year 2133 or something absurd. I told them that for as much as this was going to cost us they’d better give me the whole dang spool of paper if I wanted it. Needless to say, I came home empty-handed.

N: Dr. Siegel came in to check me and I was at 6 centimeters. Past halfway and feeling great! He wanted to break my water and right as he said that, it broke on it’s own! Little did we know then, it wasn’t done breaking. He said that I also would start to feel some pressure down there as if I needed to poop. He said that was normal, and when I started to (TMI WARNING) “pass gas” to let him know because that meant my cervix was fully dilated and effaced.

R: Scare quotes, indeed :D And yeah, the whole water breaking bit? Just wait…

N: Audrey’s heartrate began to jump up and down, and the nurses were concerned she wasn’t getting enough oxygen. Her heartrate would go from 140 down to 130, 110, 90, 110, etc. They thought she was playing with her umbilical cord or just laying on it. They hooked me up to an oxygen mask and asked me to take deep breaths. As long as Audrey’s heartrate did not fall below 100 bpm and stay there, there was nothing to worry about. The oxygen mask was used as a precautionary measure.

R: reference earlier statement about not dealing well with helplessness and futility. I went insane for about half an hour. Stark, raving mad. How I kept my exterior demeanor buttoned up, I’ll never know.

N: Robert asked the nurses if he had time to take a quick shower as he was sure (and we all were) that baby Audrey’s grand entrance would be a while. They agreed and off he went.

R: So sure that poor Dr. Seigel had gone to catch some Zs. I also figured that it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to be there for the birth of my little girl while smelling like a yeti, so a shower wasn’t merely a nice idea but just the right thing to do. Talk about “oops”…

N: Right after he got in the shower, her heartrate dropped. Although it was jumpy at first, it dropped into the 60’s and would not rise. All of the sudden, a group of nurses flooded into my room, and it was like a scene from ER. Machines went whirring by, nurses got gloves on, and I could hear several of them talking amongst themselves about the situation. One nurse wanted to check my cervix again to see how far I had progressed. WHOA! 6 TO 10 CENTIMETERS IN FIVE MINUTES! I was ready to push and never did have the passing gas sensation to let me know. All of this, and Robert was still in the shower! My mom went banging on the bathroom door and told him to get out or he would miss the birth of his baby!

R: I of course, am oblivious, although I can say I was already going as fast as I could. When the banging at the door came, I never imagined the sight that would great me when I finally stumbled out, still pulling on the ubiquitous white t-shirt. ER? More like the season finale.

N: At that point, everything was a blur. The doctor came in and got prepped. He told me to scoot down to the bottom of the table/bed and put my feet in the stirrups. Robert came out of the bathroom just in time to see her head crown. (R: Talk about getting briefed into the situation quickly..) Thankfully, the doctor walked me through the pushing, which I was glad for, since I never did take the Childbirth Preparation class at the hospital. Three pushes into it, her head was out. Dr. Siegel asked Robert if it was okay if he cut the cord since the umbilical cord was actually wrapped around her neck (hence the jumpy heartrate). He was more than happy to pass that baton. Five pushes later, she was out. I didn’t feel a thing, other than some pressure.

R: Her water had indeed broken earlier, but the result wasn’t the Niagara that I had heard from so many dads. No, that was reserved for the actual birth, at which time we momentarily had Old Faithful in our beautifully finished, wood-floored (and apparently well sealed) birthing room. And I, being Captain Genius, was wearing flip-flops. The remainder of this scene is left as an exercise for the reader.

“Cut the cord? No thanks, not hungry. You go right ahead.” Ha!

N: Dr. Siegel placed her immediately on my lap, which, looking back, I wished he hadn’t done (I did have a birth plan that no one asked for, but that’s another story). I don’t deal with blood and slime well, and I wanted to remember my baby girl as being beautiful, and well, to be honest, at that moment, she wasn’t. She wasn’t crying, and she was blue. Poor Audrey wasn’t breathing well, and very soon they whisked her off to the small bed in the corner where nurses and doctors gathered around started to work on her.

R: I flinched for Nichole when they whipped lil’ Audrey up and onto her chest, knowing that she explicitly didn’t want that. But it was, uh, too late. And, of course, she wasn’t there long anyway. There was one more sanity-destroying round to go…

N: No one told me anything. I suppose that’s standard practice in hospitals, but all I wanted was someone to tell me what the heck was going on. The repetitive “don’t worry, she’ll breathe soon” from the doctor was not what I wanted to hear. I kept hearing little mutters from the corner, but nothing resembled a justifiable cry.

R: This was the longest five or six minutes in the history of mankind. Except for the ER cast, time stood still. And it’s all on (PG rated) video, immortalized so that we can experience heart palpitations any time we want to.

N: I was in tears, and shaking like a leaf. Finally a small cry. Not real great, but good enough for them to clean her up and hand her to me. She was beautiful then! That was when the video on the first blog post was shot. The grunts she made in that video was her actually not breathing well. The video ended right before they whisked her away again, because the grunts meant she was not getting enough air into her lungs. She was gone for about a half an hour, while they ran tests, took her footprints, etc.

While all of this was happening, the doctor delivered the afterbirth and stitched me up from the second-degree tear I received.

Once my lower half got put back together, we welcomed family in. Audrey came back in to meet her loving relatives, and after they left, I was left to breastfeed her.

Uh, what? How the heck do I do that? It was 3:30 in the morning and we were exhausted in every way imaginable. The last thing I wanted to do was learn how to get this kid to attach to my boob! It didn’t go so well. Actually, the next three days of breastfeeding was a nightmare.

R: The weirdest part of this whole experience was after the breastfeeding attempt, when they took Audrey back to the nursery to watch her so that we could get some sleep. Sleep? Umm… well, that futon thing looks comfortable and all, and I’m sure exhausted, but I HAVE A DAUGHTER. You want me to sleep?! Are you crazy!?! I have to call CNN, make a blog post, arrange for ….zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

N: We went home Thursday morning, and we were ready. It was really hard to get any sleep in the hospital, and we just wanted to be home and start our new lives together as a family. After the first (sleepless) night at home, I broke down in tears around 7 am and decided this breastfeeding thing was not for us. I decided to pump exclusively, since I had this fantabulous Medela Pump-In-Style (Thanks, Mama Lisa and Grandmama Helen!). She took to the bottle like a champ, and things have been great ever since.

R: I don’t know why, but when the pump is actually running (and pumping) the rhythmic noise it makes sounds vaguely like it’s saying “Look-at-Nichole, look-at-Nichole, look-at-Nichole…” I know that’s beyond weird, but the first time I “heard” it it was hysterical (since of course she didn’t want ANYone looking at her with this industrial-caliber apparatus attached to her) and it was impossible not to hear it after that.

/crickets

What? What are you all looking at?

N: Robert’s parents spent that first week with us, and thank God for them! They ran countless errands for us and made sure we had food in our bellies. Audrey enjoyed bonding with her new grandparents too!

R: So really it didn’t all start with castor oil — the castor oil was just the end of the beginning. Each tomorrow is somehow even better than every today.

We’ll keep you posted ;)

__________________________________________________ Things they don’t tell you in the books/Things I’ve learned: (Read at your own risk!)

1. Don’t believe everything you read: Breastfeeding is not easy, and requires A LOT of patience. More patience than I had on one hour of sleep.

2. I was pretty sore from the tear, and it made urinating quite unpleasant for about two weeks.

3. Own stock in Kotex. ‘Nuff said.

4. My post-pregnancy body was nothing like I thought it would be! I knew I wouldn’t immediately go back into my jeans, but to have a torpedo-like belly that resembled that of a 20-week pregnant woman was not what I expected. My bellybutton was an outie during pregnancy and decided it wanted to go back in, but couldn’t from all the scar tissue and stretch marks caused from my navel ring. It looked like something from Chernobyl. Scary.

5. I also had this absolutely horrible hip pain for about two weeks after birth from my pelvic bones trying to get back into alignment. I lived on Motrin.

6. Labor was not near as bad as I thought it would be.

7. If you decide to create a birth plan, be sure your nurses and doctor get a copy of it when you check in, so there is ample time for it to be reviewed and your wishes to be carried out.

8. CASTOR OIL RULES, and I will use it on all subsequent pregnancies.

9. You don’t need to pack near the amount of stuff all the books tell you to. You live in hospital gowns and disposable underwear. You pay for everything in your hospital room whether you touch it or not, so TOUCH IT.

10. It *is* possible to get a good night’s sleep. It’s called having a husband who has feeding duty on the night shift, which leads me to…

11. Watching your husband become a father makes you fall in love with him all over again. How blessed I am to have a husband that simply adores his little girl and would do anything for her.

12. Being a mommy is the most wonderful experience ever. She smiles and coos, and hardly ever cries. I can’t wait to see her every morning, and I look forward to every minute I get to spend with her. She is our miracle baby, and not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for such a perfect little girl. I truly don’t deserve her!

This entry was posted on Monday, October 30th, 2006 at 11:04:31 pm and is filed under Pictures, Fam, Audrey. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.