Delirious with joy
“A wizard is never
late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he intends to.”
- Gandalf
Tess (Teresa) Lily Jenkins. Born 12-14-12 at 5:59pm.
After 9 amazing months of pregnancy with no complications,
it was getting close to my due date.
My incredible OB, Meera Garcia (a long time friend of mine and Andy’s),
recommended we induce labor since signs were suggesting that my “Little Nugget”
was not so little after all. We
didn’t want to go beyond my due date and let her get any bigger so I arrived at
the hospital on the evening of Dec 4 to start the process. After 36 hours of cervidil, cytotec, and
pitocin, contractions, poking, and prodding there was no change in my cervix so
it was either do a c-section or go home to see if things could get going
naturally. At this point I had
basically made the decision that if I ever were to have another child, I would
be having a home birth. All in
all, it was a pretty miserable experience.
My mom trying to keep me upbeat. The forever optimist.
She was just excited to have a new grand child :-)
Andy also trying to keep me happy. Also very excited to be a dad.
Don't let the smile fool you...
My sporadic ineffectual contractions.
But stable baby heartbeat... which was the important thing.
Oxytocin... that didn't work!
So that’s what I did. Thank god my awesome mom and my
incredible husband were around to keep me sane while I just sat around waiting
for something to happen for a week.
An ultrasound showed that the baby was indeed going to be a big one, so
the docs were guessing she might be too big to move into the birth canal. But
again, I waited. I really did not
want a c-section, and wanted to experience giving birth “the old fashioned
way.”
Finally, I went in on Dec 13 to try another induction. Again, all the aggressive meds did
NOTHING even after 24 hours. Zero change in my cervix. So, it was decided I would need to have a c-section. I was honestly heartbroken to hear that
I would not experience giving birth naturally. For 9 months I imagined giving birth. I witnessed my sister giving birth to
my nephew Alex so I had a small idea of how things might go down. My mom also was a champ at giving birth
- having been in labor for only 45 minutes with me, I foolishly hoped I might
have a similar experience. I
imagined what it might be like to realize I was going into labor, would my
water break? What would contractions
feel like? I pictured arriving at
the hospital with nerves and excitement.
I pictured contractions and pushing…. having Andy coach me in my
breathing, watching him cut the umbilical cord. Watching my baby come out of me and being placed to my chest
immediately after. I imagined
nursing the baby in the delivery room.
None of this would happen now… It was one of the most painful and sad
moments of my life.
In the end, this was exactly why I wanted my longtime friend
Meera to be my doctor. I have an
inherent distrust of physicians, and I think were it anyone else I would have
questioned their judgment and motives.
Are they suggesting a c-section so they can get this over with? Because it’s easier for them? Because
this way they can maintain complete control? Of course, after months of reading pregnancy blogs where
doctors who perform c-sections are often portrayed as evil scalping-wielding quacks
who want to rob you of your ideal birth experience, this is exactly what would
have gone through my mind. But I
trusted and respected Meera. I knew she was giving me the best care and had my and
my baby’s best interests in mind with her recommendations.
After shedding many tears, I realized this was the only way
we were going to bring my baby into the world. I relented. C-section it was.
Having a c-section is actually... terrifying. Particularly for someone like myself
who hates anything to do with medical care. Needles, machines that go “ping,”
surgery, pills… I hate it all. A
big part of that might be because I witnessed my brother going through cancer
treatment in a hospital, and it has, I think, scarred me in some way. All I can do when I see an IV drip is
picture my big bro, shuffling around his hospital room with one of those in
tow. So basically, in the words of
Ron Burgundy, I was in a glass case of emotion at this point.
First, I had to get an epidural – which I wanted to avoid
for a natural birth, so even the epidural was emotional turmoil! Then, I had some pre-pubescent
anesthesiologist that had to re-insert the needle into my damn spine not twice
but THREE times. More than a few
“F bombs” had been dropped during this experience. But once he finally got the damn thing in, it made me pretty
much numb from the chest down. It was made clear to me that I would not feel pain
but would feel “pressure.” As the
anesthesiologist put it, it would be like “an elephant sitting on my chest.”
Uhhh.. OK well that sounds pretty damn painful to me but whatever. In we went for surgery.
Here’s the other thing about a c-section. You experience it totally and
completely awake and un-sedated – sedatives could affect the baby. That’s the
last thing I wanted, so I was basically using Lamaze breathing techniques to
keep myself from going into a panic. As Meera came in to the OR she reassuredly
tells me she will describe the entire process to me so I know what is happening
as she does it. “The hell you
will,” I thought! I didn’t want to
know a damn thing about what was happening beyond that curtain. Just do your thing, Meera and get me my
baby.
Andy, by the way, during this entire process was probably
just as terrified as I was but never once let on and kept so strong for me. “Strong
like bull,” as my brother Ron would say.
He kept me calm and distracted during the entire process. Of course, because I was in a state of
panic, time somehow simultaneously stood still and flew by, but before I knew
what was happening I heard Meera shout “IT’S A GIRL!” and I heard my daughter
cry. And I instantaneously felt
this overwhelming sense of calm go over me. She’s here, and she’s crying. At that moment, all my fears and
disappointment over having to have the c-section disappeared. All I could think about was seeing my
baby girl.
And wait, oh my god! It's a girl! I hadn’t found out the sex during the pregnancy, so it was a
true surprise to hear “IT’S A GIRL!” from beyond that blue curtain. All I could think was how happy my mom
would be that she finally has a grand daughter, after having 3 grandsons. It was an amazing moment. We decided many months ago to name her Tess, short for Teresa, named after my great aunt "Tess" Heimers (and her mother too, my great grandmother, Theresia Rhomberg). My mom's parents died when she was young, and her Aunt Tess and Uncle Tony raised her. They were both childless and retired, but took my mom and Uncle Pete in with open arms. Tess actually died before I was born, but my whole life I've heard stories of this amazing woman and wanted to honor her memory and what she did for my mom by naming my daughter after her.
But I still
hadn’t seen her! Andy could see
her though, and he was describing the scene to me as tears streamed down his
face. I kept asking, “Is she okay?
Is she healthy?” And he kept telling me she was. After checking her out, and cleaning her up, around she came
to my side of the blue curtain.
And she was perfect. In every sense of the word. She was truly
beautiful!!! Andy held her up so I could see her and all I wanted to do was
establish that skin-to-skin contact they talked so much about during my pregnancy
classes and in my books. I learned
about how critical it was to have the baby put to your chest after you push her
out; it helps with bonding and with the baby’s heart rate and even nursing.
While I wasn’t having the ideal experience up to this point, I wanted to make
sure we touched. So I had Andy
hold her face to mine, the only parts of our bodies that were exposed, and I
cried. It was a surreal moment
that I will never forget. I kept kissing her, her skin felt so soft and
perfect. I loved her already.
At this point, they rolled me into the recovery room. Next to me they bathed Tess, and got me
cleaned up too. We learned the nurse in the recovery room was from
Massachusetts, because Andy was wearing a red sox t-shirt. She was awesome and
funny, and made me feel happy and calm.
We joked about the red sox’ previous season, and talked about Brady
getting another ring this year hopefully. It was just what I needed at that
moment. Then they asked if I
wanted to try to nurse my daughter and I did. I figured it wouldn’t work, but I
wanted to get the process started.
So they handed her to me and I put her to my chest, and she latched
right away! It was incredible. I
was fearful that we would struggle in trying to establish breast-feeding, since
some sources suggest that it’s more difficult after a c-section. Apparently I had nothing to fear. I was convinced at that moment that my
daughter was a genius. She was
awesome at suckling and she was minutes old.
We talked to my mom on the phone as well, told her it was a
girl. She told us how out in the
hall she saw that same pre-pubescent anesthesiologist who effed up my epidural
3 times, and asked him if it was a girl or boy and he wouldn’t tell her! She
was so mad. Poor mom. This guy was not establishing a strong fan base in our
family. But it was a great moment
to be able to tell her ourselves that she had a granddaughter.
Another reason I really didn’t want to have the c-section
initially was because I didn’t want to have to be on pain medications
afterwards. This was for two
reasons – 1) I didn’t want to nurse with narcotics on board, thereby exposing
my perfect vulnerable tiny baby to any amount of those nasty drugs. 2) I have had to use narcotic pain meds
for knee surgeries in the past, and frankly – they turn me into a crazy
person. I get depressed and
paranoid and it’s just a miserable experience – for me and everyone around me.
I didn’t want to feel like that ever again, and especially during this amazing
time in my life… and possibly even trigger some level of post-partum
depression. But I met with a
member of the anesthesia team and came up with a plan where they would remove
the epidural (which would keep me numb for 24 hours after the surgery) and treat
my pain with ibuprophen and Tylenol.
If those didn’t treat my pain sufficiently, we would supplement with
morphine as needed. I was
committed to keeping my and my baby’s body narcotic free, and was lucky enough
to get sufficient pain relief from the ibuprophen and Tylenol so never needed
any morphine at all. It was a
great feeling and the hospital staff really made me feel like a badass for it
too.
In the end, I am over the whole c-section thing. Would I have rather have gone into
labor naturally, experienced painless contractions and pushed Tess out in
minutes instead of having been gutted like a fish? Of course. But as Meera very
frankly pointed out to me, if it were 100 years ago, neither Tess nor I would
have survived this pregnancy. Tess
was 9 pounds and her head was 14-1/2 cm.
And as Meera witnessed when she had my insides open, my pelvic opening
is tiny. (Of course, my response to this was “well, why the hell is my ass so
fat then???” Gotta keep a sense of humor about these things ;-) But honestly, Tess would have been
stuck in there, and eventually the placenta would have given out. And even IF I
was somehow able to squeeze her out, pushing her massive noggin’ out of the
birth canal would have been so traumatic her poor little head and brain would have
been damaged. Andy also told me
about people he met in the hallways and elevators, people who’s babies were in
the NICU or special care nursery, one man’s baby had already had two surgeries
and his wife was in critical care.
Hearing about these poor, poor people really made me count my blessings.
Thinking of it that way, medical technology allowed me to have a healthy,
perfect beautiful daughter AND enabled me to be here to enjoy her. Who cares
how my baby entered the world – she entered it. I was
grateful for the c-section. I was
grateful for Meera. Screw the
blogs and their bullshitty judgment!
So… My daughter is here and is healthy and is so FRIGGIN’
AWESOME! I am so completely
smitten with her in everyway. I can’t stop staring at her. Parents always say it to expectant
parents, but it means nothing until you experience it yourself. Frankly I think it's a bit
condescending when parents even try to describe these feelings to anyone who
hasn’t gone through it themselves.
It’s impossible to put into words.
I never could relate to these feelings before… I’ve never been one who
has been particularly into babies or children. They made me slightly uncomfortable to be honest. But now
that I have my own… I just couldn’t imagine being so “gaga” over a baby! I am a
total geek about her! All I want
to do is squeeze her and snuggle with her. I’m completely ridiculous and don’t even care. I know its clichéd but everything
changed the moment she came into my life.
All I keep thinking is… how did I get so lucky? Andy and I have been joking about how
someone out there is looking out for us, and we might have to start going to
all the different religious houses (a Christian church, Buddhist temple, Jewish
synagogue, Muslim mosque, etc) to say thanks to whoever might be taking care of
us. We are truly blessed.
Gramma... with her first granddaughter.
Dad's first diaper change! Instead of telling him to say "cheese" I told him to say "poo!"
Tess with my "Haggis hand," as Andy so cleverly named it. My IV got messed up somehow and the fluid just started pooling in my hand. Which made it swell so bad it looked like a latex glove that was blown up like a balloon. One of my many "battle scars" of birth... which I wear with pride.
