Sullivan’s birth story:
There is some back story to Sullivan’s arrival into the
world. Around 20 weeks of pregnancy I
switched to a new care provider, opting for a nurse midwife. Not long after I felt like Sullivan’s
movements were somewhat erratic and the flip-flopping was continuous. I also wasn’t getting as big as I usually would
by this stage of pregnancy. I dismissed
the concern as unfounded fear but a gut feeling that something wasn’t right
kept creeping up. About 6 months along I
mentioned it to my midwife and asked if she would do an ultrasound to verify
all was well. We scheduled the
ultrasound for around 28 weeks. At the
ultrasound they were surprised at how tiny my baby was…he was significantly
underweight for his gestational age. We
were referred to a perinatologist for follow-up. This was on a Friday which, of course, gave
me all weekend to practice being anxious for nothing J. We visited with the next doc on Monday who
said Sullivan was bigger than they had originally estimated and on the low side
of normal but still very tiny for my babies so we would plan to do a follow up
in a month. We left feeling relieved but
I still wasn’t convinced all was well.
Time passed and our next ultrasound showed consistent growth. We scheduled a final follow up ultrasound at
36 weeks as a triple check.
The
morning of the ultrasound I scheduled an appointment for as early as possible
so Eric could just go into work late but not interrupt the entire flow of his
work day. I thought before leaving about
whether I should pack a bag and shower, etc. just in case but I was running a
bit behind (story of my life these days) and opted for a pony tail and a deep
breath. The ultrasound lasted forever…they
kept waiting for him to take practice breaths and he wasn’t taking them. He was still quite small. I drank cold water,
we prodded my belly to encourage him to wake up since he seemed to be
sleeping. Nada. This is where that knotted feeling in the pit
of your stomach enters the picture…why isn’t he moving?? I knew something wasn’t
right. Maybe I’m concerned for nothing…what
will the doctor say? Enter Dr. B who I
LOVE. He was kind and supportive and so
willing to discuss options with me without just handing over a prescription or
diagnosis. He had been very liberal to
this point, preferring to let nature take its course. This day he walked into the room and said “we
need to meet your baby today…I think you should walk right over to labor and
delivery”. He simply wasn’t moving enough, wasn’t taking the minimum amount of
practice breaths, etc. and was not growing adequately since his last
visit.
Of
course it would happen this way…the one time I am unprepared, haven’t done my
hair, my husband hasn’t planned to be here and we have no where to take our
children. I told the doc I had to go
home and get my things and my husband and drop off our children…somewhere. So he asked me to be expeditious…I headed
toward home a little shaky and a little frustrated and unprepared. Grabbed my things, my husband and phoned some
friends to find a solution. My Dad had
emergency surgery the day prior so mom was quite busy as he was in the hospital
and she works full time…that option was out.
Thankfully we have a dear friend who our eldest carpooled to
kindergarten with who cared for our little ones all day at the last
minute. All 3 of them! I cried in her
front yard and she prayed for me….I took a deep breath and we headed to the
hospital.
I
preferred to not use Pitocin if I could avoid it. I have had a cesarean (with my first) and
while pitocin has been used in labors past and I’ve done fine, I prefer to
avoid it if at all possible. We used a
foley catheter. Typically these are used in the bladder but for purposes of
labor induction they can be inserted into a partly dilated cervix and inflated
with saline then taped to the leg. This
provides pressure which encourages the cervix to thin and open. Once the cervix opens beyond the size of the
inflated catheter, it simply falls out and often times this is all that’s
needed to start labor. In my case, I dilated quickly to a 4 but labor wasn’t
going…it was just too early for my body to jump on board. So we started Pitocin. For many hours not much happened. Sullivan looked fine on the monitors as far
as his heart rate went so I was allowed to labor…a few hours later his heart
rate was taking big dives and not coming back up quickly enough and it wasn’t
only going down with contractions. The
contractions went from nothing to painful very quickly which has been my
experience with Pitocin every time…nothing…nothing…nothing…then bam – it his me. My
hope was to use a narcotic in order to get dilated enough that my body would
continue to labor and then back off the pit and avoid an epidural. I tried Fentanyl and I regret it. I have never used a narcotic in labor but the
stress and overwhelm and uncertainty of this situation after a full day of
waiting weighed heavily enough on me that I thought “why not?” I felt
completely loopy and still couldn’t rest.
Bad choice for me. An hour or so
later the contractions were intense but I was only a 6. I asked for an epidural and everyone said for
sure I was in transition because the contractions were so intense and I was
shaking so much. I thought otherwise…I know
my body and I remember this happening the last time pit was used in labor. I couldn’t feel the baby low enough and I
knew. They checked me talking about how it
might be time…nada…6.
When
the anesthesiologist came in to give me the epidural I was more than ready and
very frustrated. When he inserted it I
told him it felt very high to me and I could feel it only on one side of my
body. He said all looked fine and
proceeded. It took a while for the medication to numb me so he kept upping it
to the point that my blood pressure dropped and I was shaking and had tunnel
vision, ringing in the ears, I etc. and got very scared. After a few doses of epinephrine and turning
down the epidural things seemed to calm a bit. My poor husband was terrified
after watching that whole ordeal which lasted better than an hour. I wanted to
sit up to put the pressure of baby’s head on the cervix to help things along if
at all possible. When I went to sit up,
I fell over…the epidural was so high I was numb from my shoulder blades down but
not my left side from my hips down initially.
I knew in my mind that if I did not turn over and get on all 4’s so the
babe could get into a good position it might be long and I was hoping a change
of position would help his heart rate as well.
I couldn’t move my right side but maneuvered myself over on the
bed. Within about 20 seconds I could not
breathe…my entire front side went numb and I was panicky. I flipped over and tried to breathe…of course
all my vital signs were off so the nurse came in and put the oxygen mask on
me. I just cried…feeling overwhelmed,
out of control, afraid for my baby and scared of having to have surgery. My midwife was scheduled to have her own
surgery that day and tagged teamed with the OB in her practice who happened to
be just awesome. Supportive, kind, and
not in a rush to do anything unnecessary.
She broke my water to see if we might be able to help the process along
and avoid surgery. I was about 8 cm now
so I called my mom and texted my best friend. My first cesarean was at 8 ½ cm…so
I wasn’t fully convinced we were done yet.
Not long thereafter she checked me and I was 9 ½…she waited for a
contraction and the cervix was gone. I
didn’t feel like pushing, I was tired and didn’t have the urge and I was afraid
about whether the baby was ok. I woke up
Eric who had finally just fallen to sleep about 4AM. I pushed on my side to avoid tearing which
has worked well for me. One push and the
baby was almost there so the doc suited up as quickly as possible…one more push
and he was born. The first thing the doc
said was “look….a true knot” – He had a tight knot in his cord. I felt my gut feeling was confirmed and also
shuddered at the thought of not having had that final ultrasound. True knots are a known cause of death in
utero and cannot usually be seen on ultrasound.
What if we would have waited, I wondered? That carried me through the next few weeks.
He was
SO tiny…I mean just as itty bitty as I could imagine.
His cry was there which reassured me and he
was placed immediately on my chest but he couldn’t breathe.
I could see the intense retractions all
throughout his ribs and beneath and I knew they would take him quickly.
They did…his oxygen sats were in the 70’s.
Over 90 is normal.
They didn’t have to intubate since he
responded to oxygen support. They whisked him away to the NICU along with my
husband and I was left alone…with my mom… in a very quiet labor and delivery
room.
I heard the baby crying next door
and my heart ached.
I sobbed and
sobbed.
I felt so scared for our baby
and so robbed of what should have been a joyous welcoming.
The nurse practitioner assured me I
could hold him just as soon as I was considered stable and moved into a
postpartum room. I decided to just look
forward to that. I just wanted to see
his little face and nurse him. We moved
to another room, mom had to go to work, Eric met me and I got up and walked to
the nursery…I didn’t want help or a wheelchair, I just wanted my baby. The nurse quickly informed me that the baby
wasn’t well enough for me to hold him and that maybe in a few hours I could
hold him when she had a minute to assist me.
I was angry…and my heart ached to hold my baby. He had cpap, an IV and an NG tube as well as
all the probes and monitors that come with the NICU. Compared to other babies he looked really
wonderful and I knew he would recover and come home with us while others there
may not. He had already had his first
set of xrays— without me. He appeared to
have aspirated during delivery or perhaps had some sort of pneumonia or other
fluid in his lungs. Finally later that
day I held him…and cried…and wished I had photos but it was just he and I. I wanted so badly to nurse him but he could
not with the cpap on. I only got to hold him for a half hour. Which made me more angry and more upset. Many hours were spent sitting and staring at
him with my hands on his tiny feet, legs and body. My parents visited as dad recovered from
surgery but only one friend came...I’d be lying if I didn’t say it made the
time there harder. I received lots of
emails and facebook messages…not sure if people felt uncertain whether to come
or what. We had a lot of love when we
came home and so many families and friends brought meals. That was so precious to me and such a life
saver.
For the next few days I ventured
back and forth between my room and his…showing up every 4 hours on the hour
asking if I could nurse him or hold him.
I was so angry when a nurse changed his diaper without asking me first…without
calling me to do it.
It was the only
thing I could do for him…check his temp and change his diaper.
I LONGED to change them.
So I spent more time in the nursery. Crying,
staring at the baby, staring at the monitors…knotted up stomach wondering if it
would be annoying for me to ask again when I could hold him.
Wondering if they would feed him a bottle or
give me the chance to nurse. When I did nurse the first time he latched on
rather quickly…I felt so under the gun…if his oxygen levels went too low, if he
did not gain weight by nursing, if he struggled at all...it would be over.
Each nursing session took a long time and I
was excited to nurse and also scared that he wouldn’t get what he needed from
me.
Over time, he improved.
I would wait each morning for the doctor to
come and discuss with him what was going on with our baby.
One day he asked the team accompanying him
when they thought Sullivan would head home…up until day 4 he was “Baby Smith”
and then we finally agreed on a name
J.
He had been in the NICU just about a week and
I piped up and said “how about today?” and while the doc seemed shocked that I
volunteered I explained I was comfortable with what he needed and could take
oxygen with us.
He agreed to let us take
him provided we scheduled a surgery he needed within 2 weeks or so.
We agreed and brought him home.
I cried in the van leaving and cannot tell
you the relief…I held him and held him and held him and did not put him down
and would not stop snuggling and smelling and staring at him.
While our journey was not as tough as some,
for me it was very difficult…and for our family.
Our children cried when they left the
hospital each night without us and still talk about how they don’t want me to
be at the hospital again. When we packed up to leave I asked the Lord why
things went this way…I did not get an answer but He did speak very clearly to
me that while this cannot be changed, it will be redeemed.
My heart is content with that answer and so
grateful for His providence in the midst of my obvious struggles during this
time.
The
following week, at 2 weeks old, we went to Denver for surgery which was another
heartache all its own.
All things
considered we received such wonderful care from all the doctors and nurses we
worked with.
I wish I could have changed
the process but had I waited and Sullivan may not be here. That makes it all
worthwhile.
While many moms and babies
are healthy, some mommies and babies need additional care.
I’m so grateful that was available to us when
we needed it.
Sullivan
is 8 months old now…he has fat rolls all over and is still a breast fed
baby. He is happy and content and
continues to grow and develop perfectly J
He’s in the 6th percentile so still itty bitty but he’s catching
up!! J
He is a joy to my heart and I’m so glad the Lord gave him to us.
