Kevin's conception all began with a broken ankle...
On December 15, 1995, the schools where I teach were delayed in opening one hour due
to an ice storm the day before. On such days, I never rushed out of the house; I lingered over
my tea, watched morning television, and took a leisurely shower. By 8:30am, when I was ready
to leave, the sun was shining and the roads outside looked wet. How slippery could it be? I was
sure I didn't need my boots...
I never even made it out the front door. I put my right foot out and slipped awkwardly, my left leg buckling under me, my left ankle hitting the concrete step. Immediately, I knew something was very wrong. In horrible pain, I crawled up the stairs and hopped into the kitchen, fumbling for my husband's business card in my purse (I can never remember his phone and pager number). Fortunately, I caught him just before he left on a 150 mile trek to a power plant. "I fell!" I cried, "please come home."
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Eight weeks! What would I possibly find to do with 8 weeks at home?... |
My left fibula was fractured right at the ankle. The emergency room doctor wouldn't cast it until an orthopedic surgeon examined it in 2 days, after the initial swelling went down. I ended up in a huge cast up to my knee, and no work for 8 weeks. Eight weeks! What would I possibly find to do with 8 weeks at home?...
A month and a half later, my period was late -- 3 days late -- unheard of for me. An excited little voice began pestering me...is it time for a home test? We had been trying to conceive since July; could this possibly be our dream come true? Now in a graceful walking cast, I hobbled into the pharmacy and purchased a home test. I read the instructions about a million times, drank a lot of water, waited impatiently until I really had "to go," then...did it. Waiting for that strip to change color (please, please, change color) was the longest time in my life. The little window showed a purple strip...I'm pregnant!
I left it on the kitchen table, along with the mail, for my husband to see when he came home. "What's this?" he asked. He thought it was something that had come free in the mail. I laughed and cried when I told him. We were elated...
Seven weeks later I had my first appointment with my ob/gyn. Everything looked great, but my blood pressure was borderline. I was back at work by this time and he told me to have the school nurse take my pressure twice a day for a week. I was to fax him the results on Friday morning. Well, my BP continued to rise as the week went on. By Friday morning it was 150/100...the nurse told me that even nerves wouldn't cause it to rise that much. I faxed the readings over to him at noon, and he was on the phone 15 minutes later, ordering me to bedrest for the entire weekend and to see him Monday afternoon. I was in tears. Had I done something wrong? Was my tiny baby being affected? Would he or she develop properly? I was horrified at the thought of miscarriage.
When I saw my doctor on Monday, my BP was now 160/100. Without delay or debate, he put me on Aldomet, a medication I had read was considered safe for treating hypertension during pregnancy; however, I'm the kind of person who rarely takes Tylenol, so any drug was frightening to me, especially being pregnant. For a year before we even conceived Kevin, I had not taken medicines of any kind (even Tylenol), drank alcohol or consumed caffeine or Nutrasweet. I wanted the purest pregnancy for my baby, and now that was all history. I was very upset.
The Aldomet worked beautifully, however, and our pharmacist was nice enough to give me all of the pharmacological data regarding the drug and pregnancy. Technical as it was, it set my mind at ease and I began to enjoy being pregnant. Incidentally, I began to feel better too. I guess the high BP was affecting me more than I realized...
Things went along smoothly from then on, although my doctor wouldn't let me work full time. Beginning with my 2nd trimester, in April, I only taught my second graders until noon, then went home to rest in the afternoon. School was out in mid-June anyway and I wasn't working in the summer (or ever again). As I got bigger and bigger and the Maryland summer got hotter and hotter, I rested more and more. In general I felt great. My doctor saw me every 2 weeks, not the usual once a month.
As my 3rd trimester began, my BP went up again. Sonograms showed that my baby boy was good-sized and growing properly (decreased fetal size and development is a side-effect of hypertensive pregnancies). My medication dose was increased and I began seeing the doctor weekly and had sonograms every 2 weeks.
At week 37, my doctor began ordering weekly oxytocin challenge tests (OCT), to see how the baby would respond to the stress of contractions and impending labor. I went to the antenatal testing center of my hospital, where I received an IV of diluted pitocin (oxytocin). I had mild contractions about every three minutes for 2 hours, during which time Kevin's heartrate was monitored.
Week 37 was negative...everything was great! Week 38 was also negative...super.
During the week 39 test, the nurse came in quite often, checking the readout of Kevin's
| My doctor took a split second look at the readout and said, "Well, we're going to have this baby today." I almost fainted. |
I was shown into the exam room rather quickly. My doctor took a split second look at the readout and said, "Well, we're going to have this baby today." I almost fainted. He did his internal exam and shook his head. He couldn't even feel my cervix, it was so high and tight. We had discussed that vaginal birth was important to me, emotionally. He said he would try prostaglandin then induction, but upon referring with his partner, who was on duty that night, they decided that Kevin was in some distress already, and a long arduous induction would be dangerous. A planned cesarian was how my baby was going to be born.
Now, since the nurse who did the OCT didn't tell me what may lay ahead, I had eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and my natural applesauce in the truck before heading over to the doctor's. I was always so hungry by noontime! Well, I think my doctors wanted to do the c-section right away, but since I had eaten we had to wait 8 hours...Kevin's birth was planned for 8:00pm. Since it would be a while and I felt fine physically (emotionally was a different story), I asked if I could go home and wait for my husband and get my suitcase. No. They wanted me admitted immediately and put on the monitors. So I called my husband at work (thank goodness I carry that card in my wallet), my twin sister at home and told then what was happening. My husband left work immediately and went home to take care of our dog and get her settled for a long night, and then get my things and meet me at the hospital.
I was in the prep room for 2 hours before my husband arrived. That was a long, scary time for me. I had received a huge IV in my wrist (nothing compared to the little butterfly IV for the OCT) which made me queasy just to look at it (yes, I'm a wuss). I kept looking at the monitor readout, anxiously assessing Kevin's heartrate. All seemed fine, thankfully.
My husband finally arrived and I was immediately at ease. The nurses were so kind and informative, answering all of my questions patiently and honestly. The anesthesiologist came in and explained my options...epidural or spinal. He recommended the spinal because I wouldn't feel any pulling (the wuss thing again). He warned me about the spinal headache.
I discovered tht 3 other women were in the hospital that night with the same condition as me, only more dire, so they had their c-sections first. I was pushed back to 9:00pm. Around 8:30 the delivery room nurse came in to prep me and do the catheter (now that was the worst thing thus far). Things began to roll along quickly after that...
As I got the spinal, the nurses held my hand, and stroked my head. They were so comforting in such a scary situation. I had never had surgery before and I was frightened. Once the spinal had taken, my husband was allowed in, looking very efficient in his scrubs. Before I knew it, the nurse told me that the doctor had made her first incision.
A few minutes later, I felt as if I was going to throw up. Normal reaction, I was told. I had oxygen in my nose and and focused on that pure coolness, and the nauseous sensation passed. My husband was watching the whole operation with great interest and the anesthesiologist and nurses kept me apprised as to what was going on...28 minutes after beginning, Kevin was gently eased into the world. My husband told me he looked pink and healthy, and he was crying lustily. My husband went over to the warm table where the nurses and pediatrician were caring for him...he remembers that, not 20 seconds out of the womb, he urinated in a graceful arc all over the place! Kevin was perfect...7 lbs. 4.4 oz. and 20" in length. His apgars were both 9s at one and five minutes after birth.
He was wrapped warmly and had a blue and white cap on his lovely round head. He was in such good condition, the pediatrician said he could stay with us in the recovery room. The recovery room nurse held Kevin to my breasts, where he nursed beautifully. I was elated. My husband cradled him and held him to my face for those 2 hours. I was so grateful he could stay with us and begin the bonding process.
I stayed in the hospital 4 days, taking advantage of the lactation specialists. By the time I went home, my milk had come in fully and we were on our way to a wonderful nursing relationship.
Kevin turned 4 months old yesterday. He weighs 15 lbs. now. We captured his first real laugh on video last night as my husband undressed him for his bath. He is the ultimate joy in both of our lives.
As I look back on my birth story, and contemplate a brother or sister for Kevin in 2 or 3 years, I think my main priority is to lose some weight before conceiving again. I don't know if my
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I thought I'd feel somehow inadequate having had the cesarean the way I did, but I don't. |
However, I highly recommend a broken ankle...because that way, as a joking colleague told my entire faculty at a school meeting, your husband can finally "catch you."
Copyright 1997 by Laurie Flanagan
Used by permission
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