39 Weeks 6 Days
I am going to break the birth story into 3 posts because it didn't occur as a continuous event for me. But first, one last pregnancy picture:
Labor
My husband and I arrived at the hospital as instructed at 6 am. I was immediately taken into a regular labor room and told to change into a hospital gown. I was allowed to wear my bra and my own socks, but that was it.
The nurse started Pitocin and my antibiotics for GBS by 6:30 am and I was given an internal. I started at 2 cm dilated 50% effaced and Baby A was at a -2 station. Since both babies were on fetal heart monitors I was not allowed out of bed again that day.
My OB came in right before 9 am and discovered that I had not dilated or effaced at all. She attempted to strip my membranes using a jousting lance and a running start . She's a small lady and has small hands; not helping was the fact that Baby A was so far up in my pelvis. She had to sit on the bed by my knees to do this. The only thing that I remember about this procedure, other than how much it hurt, was that I was really afraid that I'd kick her tiny little ass out of the bed and into a monitor.
On her way out the door she said to my nurse, "I may have nicked her bag of waters." By the time I processed this statement she was gone. I was not pleased. I believed that my water would not be broken without my consent, I'm not sure why I thought that, but since it was inadvertent I figured there was no point in getting upset.
Overall the morning was relatively uneventful. My husband went to the hospital cafeteria for breakfast and lunch, happily reporting back that he'd found and eaten corned beef hash and that the lunch offerings included a sushi bar.
I tortured myself by watching a restaurant tour show on PBS and made a demand list of foods that I wanted when we got home. Top of the list: chocolate chip pancakes. The pain from contractions wasn't too bad at this point. My only major pain complaint, other than the membrane stripping, was the escalating discomfort from the pressure on my tailbone. I could not get in a comfortable position that would relieve the pressure and allow both babies to be monitored.
Right after lunch my OB returned and discovered that I had not progressed. [Note: someone should teach OBs in medical school how to tell a woman she hasn't progressed without sounding like a gym teacher lecturing a fat kid who cannot run a quarter-mile.] She also discovered that she failed to strip my membranes. This time she did not rely on an inanimate object to do the job, she did it with her fingers, and when she finished she broke Baby A's bag of water, intentionally. Having my membranes stripped was so incredibly painful. I think that watching it almost made my husband cry. It was certainly worse than the contractions ever were, but this could have been because I never had good/productive contractions.
Even though at the end of this story I wound up being very unimpressed with my doctor's bedside manner, at this point she was extremely kind about the fact that she was hurting me, which really did help with the pain management. It makes a huge difference if the person inflicting injury upon you appears to be sorry and careful. I'd heard too many stories about OBs who were pretty heartless during this procedure. Mine was not. Additionally she wasn't an absent figure during my labor. She visited fairly often and spent what was clearly some of her down-time with me checking on how I was doing without seeming rushed. I appreciated that too.
The afternoon passed uneventfully. For awhile my contractions got stronger and closer together. Honestly, if I was at home I would have called my husband, but I probably would not have even gone to the hospital yet. At one point, I had my husband hunt down my nurse so I could request that the pitocin be increased. Around 4:30 the nurse attempted to check my progress but could not reach my cervix. I assumed that this was not a good sign. That assumption was correct as she went to find someone with "bigger hands." This person with bigger hands reported that I had dilated to 4cm and effaced a little more, but that Baby A was still at -2 station.
My OB arrived soon thereafter and agreed with this assessment. The pitocin was turned up again but I never felt my contractions get stronger. At 7:30 pm nothing had changed and although neither the babies or I were in distress we were not progressing either. My OB recommended a c-section but honored my request to give it another hour to see where things went.
That was the shortest hour of my life; and a completely unproductive one. At 8:30 pm my OB advised me that I met the clinical definition of failure to progress and basically told me that I needed to have a c-section. I was not happy. I know this sounds crazy, but it did not feel like I had been in labor for very long, and it had never been very painful, aside from the tailbone. It seemed like I should have tried much harder before giving up.
I asked my OB whether, in her experience, anyone had ever been in my position and gone on to deliver vaginally. The tone of her response to this question completely altered the high esteem that I had for her up until this point. Also, her "answer" to my question did not answer my actual question.
She became obviously angry with me and responded that her colleagues all thought she was crazy for allowing me to to remain pregnant after 38 weeks. She continued to tell me that in addition to her responsibility to me, she had to consider the welfare of my children. As if this were not a shared concern... Then she said she guessed what I was asking was what would happen if I was a woman in Africa without medical care and left alone. She went on to say that these people without medical care often died, or that their babies did. Finally she listed some reasons why labor stalls, which was helpful to hear, and told me there was no way to know why I was not progressing.
What she did not say during her tirade was, in her experience, whether anyone had ever been in my position and gone on to deliver vaginally. By the time she finished lecturing me I was done. I did not feel like she respected me or like she was open to any more questions. I obviously misjudged our communications prior to the birth if she believed that I placed having a vaginal birth above the outcome of the actual birthing process.
Even though everything ended well that feeling of failure remains with me. I was always open minded about my birth experience and willing to do whatever was necessary to take home two healthy babies. I knew that there was always a chance of a c-section. I was not prepared to be yelled at by my OB and learn that she thought that I was a moron who was more interested in a vaginal birth than the health my my children.
The Cesarean
Five minutes after I verbally agreed to the Cesarean. I had signed consent forms, been shaved, put on a hat, had a catheter inserted, and met the anesthesiologist, who was great.
They took me to the operating room without my spouse and got me on the table. The spinal did not hurt at all but it was hard to sit up straight for them to insert the line because the catheter hurt and I had to sit up straight on it. I did not really notice that my arms were tied down.
There were pediatric teams there for both babies, tons of nurses, and a second OB.
The anesthesiologist promised that he would alert my husband when the babies came out so he could take pictures. My husband did not get to cut the cords, because of the cesarean, and my hospital did not make provisions for him to "clean up" the already cut cord like many do.
The actual surgery happened so fast that I don't even remember it. I heard Baby A cry and someone say that is a big baby. I didn't see him before the pediatric team took him. Next I heard my OB comment that Baby B had the cord around his neck, a second later I heard him yelling too.
It seemed as though I waited forever to see my babies, but in actuality it was only ten minutes. Someone brought both of them to me so I could look at their faces. I knew immediately that I would always be able to tell them apart. The eldest was clearly Owen and the younger, Hamilton weighing in a 6lbs 15 oz and 7lbs 3 oz respectively.
They were and are perfect and we were instantly in love.
Post Op
Luckily I was allowed to take the boys to post op with me. I was super itchy but not in any pain at that time. Both boys nursed and dosed off. My anesthesiologist made sure I was well hydrated and as a result I had no headache. No shakes or chills. Once I could move my feet I was moved to my room where I was to spend the next 4 days. With the exception of only 2 nurses all of the staff in the hospital was awesome. Unfortunately my first nurse upon being sent to my room from post op was one of the two bad nurses. By the time I got to the room I was throwing up. I felt like I'd consumed a bag of chemicals orally, which essentially I had. The horrible taste in my mouth made throwing up worse. She would not allow me to have anything or to brush my teeth. Throwing up after major abdominal surgery sucks just as much as you might imagine. If I could have gone back and packed just one more thing it would have been cherry lifesavers.
We were allowed to have the boys in the room with us starting that night. I could not get out of bed so my husband had a rough night of bringing me the babies. I dosed off around 4 am, just in time for someone to come in and yank out the catheter.
On her way out the door she said to my nurse, "I may have nicked her bag of waters." By the time I processed this statement she was gone. I was not pleased. I believed that my water would not be broken without my consent, I'm not sure why I thought that, but since it was inadvertent I figured there was no point in getting upset.
Overall the morning was relatively uneventful. My husband went to the hospital cafeteria for breakfast and lunch, happily reporting back that he'd found and eaten corned beef hash and that the lunch offerings included a sushi bar.
I tortured myself by watching a restaurant tour show on PBS and made a demand list of foods that I wanted when we got home. Top of the list: chocolate chip pancakes. The pain from contractions wasn't too bad at this point. My only major pain complaint, other than the membrane stripping, was the escalating discomfort from the pressure on my tailbone. I could not get in a comfortable position that would relieve the pressure and allow both babies to be monitored.
Right after lunch my OB returned and discovered that I had not progressed. [Note: someone should teach OBs in medical school how to tell a woman she hasn't progressed without sounding like a gym teacher lecturing a fat kid who cannot run a quarter-mile.] She also discovered that she failed to strip my membranes. This time she did not rely on an inanimate object to do the job, she did it with her fingers, and when she finished she broke Baby A's bag of water, intentionally. Having my membranes stripped was so incredibly painful. I think that watching it almost made my husband cry. It was certainly worse than the contractions ever were, but this could have been because I never had good/productive contractions.
Even though at the end of this story I wound up being very unimpressed with my doctor's bedside manner, at this point she was extremely kind about the fact that she was hurting me, which really did help with the pain management. It makes a huge difference if the person inflicting injury upon you appears to be sorry and careful. I'd heard too many stories about OBs who were pretty heartless during this procedure. Mine was not. Additionally she wasn't an absent figure during my labor. She visited fairly often and spent what was clearly some of her down-time with me checking on how I was doing without seeming rushed. I appreciated that too.
The afternoon passed uneventfully. For awhile my contractions got stronger and closer together. Honestly, if I was at home I would have called my husband, but I probably would not have even gone to the hospital yet. At one point, I had my husband hunt down my nurse so I could request that the pitocin be increased. Around 4:30 the nurse attempted to check my progress but could not reach my cervix. I assumed that this was not a good sign. That assumption was correct as she went to find someone with "bigger hands." This person with bigger hands reported that I had dilated to 4cm and effaced a little more, but that Baby A was still at -2 station.
My OB arrived soon thereafter and agreed with this assessment. The pitocin was turned up again but I never felt my contractions get stronger. At 7:30 pm nothing had changed and although neither the babies or I were in distress we were not progressing either. My OB recommended a c-section but honored my request to give it another hour to see where things went.
That was the shortest hour of my life; and a completely unproductive one. At 8:30 pm my OB advised me that I met the clinical definition of failure to progress and basically told me that I needed to have a c-section. I was not happy. I know this sounds crazy, but it did not feel like I had been in labor for very long, and it had never been very painful, aside from the tailbone. It seemed like I should have tried much harder before giving up.
I asked my OB whether, in her experience, anyone had ever been in my position and gone on to deliver vaginally. The tone of her response to this question completely altered the high esteem that I had for her up until this point. Also, her "answer" to my question did not answer my actual question.
She became obviously angry with me and responded that her colleagues all thought she was crazy for allowing me to to remain pregnant after 38 weeks. She continued to tell me that in addition to her responsibility to me, she had to consider the welfare of my children. As if this were not a shared concern... Then she said she guessed what I was asking was what would happen if I was a woman in Africa without medical care and left alone. She went on to say that these people without medical care often died, or that their babies did. Finally she listed some reasons why labor stalls, which was helpful to hear, and told me there was no way to know why I was not progressing.
What she did not say during her tirade was, in her experience, whether anyone had ever been in my position and gone on to deliver vaginally. By the time she finished lecturing me I was done. I did not feel like she respected me or like she was open to any more questions. I obviously misjudged our communications prior to the birth if she believed that I placed having a vaginal birth above the outcome of the actual birthing process.
Even though everything ended well that feeling of failure remains with me. I was always open minded about my birth experience and willing to do whatever was necessary to take home two healthy babies. I knew that there was always a chance of a c-section. I was not prepared to be yelled at by my OB and learn that she thought that I was a moron who was more interested in a vaginal birth than the health my my children.
I am still really pissed by her attitude. Mainly it was completely uncalled for to suggest that someone who manages to carry twins to 40 weeks, or any other pregnant women for that matter, is not concerned for her children absent extreme circumstances. She already said that the babies were tolerating labor well. So I felt like she was pressuring me with a tremendous unfair advantage.
After the vent I asked her to leave the room. She agreed. I turned to my husband who said that the next step was my decision. For the first time that day I really wished that I had a mother there, not my actual mother, who would have cussed out my OB and created more problems, but a mother in theory. I felt very alone.The Cesarean
Five minutes after I verbally agreed to the Cesarean. I had signed consent forms, been shaved, put on a hat, had a catheter inserted, and met the anesthesiologist, who was great.
They took me to the operating room without my spouse and got me on the table. The spinal did not hurt at all but it was hard to sit up straight for them to insert the line because the catheter hurt and I had to sit up straight on it. I did not really notice that my arms were tied down.
There were pediatric teams there for both babies, tons of nurses, and a second OB.
The anesthesiologist promised that he would alert my husband when the babies came out so he could take pictures. My husband did not get to cut the cords, because of the cesarean, and my hospital did not make provisions for him to "clean up" the already cut cord like many do.
The actual surgery happened so fast that I don't even remember it. I heard Baby A cry and someone say that is a big baby. I didn't see him before the pediatric team took him. Next I heard my OB comment that Baby B had the cord around his neck, a second later I heard him yelling too.
It seemed as though I waited forever to see my babies, but in actuality it was only ten minutes. Someone brought both of them to me so I could look at their faces. I knew immediately that I would always be able to tell them apart. The eldest was clearly Owen and the younger, Hamilton weighing in a 6lbs 15 oz and 7lbs 3 oz respectively.
They were and are perfect and we were instantly in love.
Post Op
Luckily I was allowed to take the boys to post op with me. I was super itchy but not in any pain at that time. Both boys nursed and dosed off. My anesthesiologist made sure I was well hydrated and as a result I had no headache. No shakes or chills. Once I could move my feet I was moved to my room where I was to spend the next 4 days. With the exception of only 2 nurses all of the staff in the hospital was awesome. Unfortunately my first nurse upon being sent to my room from post op was one of the two bad nurses. By the time I got to the room I was throwing up. I felt like I'd consumed a bag of chemicals orally, which essentially I had. The horrible taste in my mouth made throwing up worse. She would not allow me to have anything or to brush my teeth. Throwing up after major abdominal surgery sucks just as much as you might imagine. If I could have gone back and packed just one more thing it would have been cherry lifesavers.
We were allowed to have the boys in the room with us starting that night. I could not get out of bed so my husband had a rough night of bringing me the babies. I dosed off around 4 am, just in time for someone to come in and yank out the catheter.
Even things didnt go as planned, I am very happy that you had two beautiful baby boys! Congrats!
ReplyDeleteWow, what a story! I'm angry for you that your OB was so disrespectful and really misunderstood where you were coming from. :( Sorry things didn't play out ideally but great job carrying your twins that long and I'm thrilled they are so healthy!
ReplyDeleteHey Tamara, I'm sorry I never got to read this before. I too am sorry to hear your OB was such a b#$*%, but never forget - she was the failure, not you, Mama! My first delivery was also the most negative with a crazy doctor but after that, it got better - and the best success is holding those sweet, healthy babies in your arms!
ReplyDeleteAlso, re: cutting the cord, Steve got to do it at our request for Tom, but he said he could barely do it - it was like cutting gristle. We haven't bothered since :-) Just so Mike doesn't feel like he missed out *too* much... ;-)