(During a postpartum visit after the birth, Laurie communicated that she thought my cervix had swollen to one-centimeter. Chances are, she was feeling the baby's rectum. However, since no one suspected that the baby was actually breech, we didn't consider this possibility in the moment.)
The next half-hour was a flurry of movement, anxiety and worry. Kim started helping me pack, asking what essentials I wanted. She didn't know where we kept our bags and I told her to ask Dave. The dogs, meanwhile, were tapped into our energy and were responding in their own ways: Satchel watching intently, Maji pacing, trembling and hiding.
I wanted my hoodie, and at one point had everyone looking for it. I told Dave to pack a laptop and he refused. In his mind we'd be home later in the day or evening. I knew better. I wanted Kim to grab a specific baby blanket in the event I'd want something nice in the hospital - there I was in the midst of everything falling apart, and I wanted to be sure I had this one very comfortable looking blanket for the baby, which seemed to me to be an extension of a special love I was no longer able to provide because of how the birth was unfolding.
The worst part of it all was that my contractions continued, but now I was faced with the fact that this horribly painful back labor was all for not.
Dave bounced from room to room looking for things, trying to find bags. He also called Lynette to come for the dogs.
I fell into the place where I hated everything - a dark, unfortunate place I hate visiting. But there I was, suddenly and completely at a loss, unsure how to help and pissed off at what was happening. I grabbed backpacks and started jamming things into them. Courtney wanted to pack a laptop and I refused - what was the point? Everything we'd planned was falling apart, and the house itself seemed to be spinning.
At some point I put Maji in her crate then brought her back out. Everyone was pacing and the dogs were getting in the way. I called Lynette who answered half-asleep and told her what was happening. I pictured her springing up in bed as she said she'd be at the house in 30 minutes for the pups. Knowing she was there to help was a brief glimmer in an otherwise depressing and disheartening span of time.
The midwives asked who I wanted to go to the hospital with us while the other stayed behind. I asked for Kim to go, and asked Laurie to stay back until Lynette showed up. Just knowing the dogs wouldn't be alone for even a second was a huge relief.
Kim walked me to the Zada. It was 4:30 now, we were out in the middle of my street in the dark, and I started to have a contraction. During the contraction I said to Kim that I could never have kids again - this was my second pregnancy, and, in my mind, the second one that I'd messed up (the first being the miscarriage, which had happened almost exactly a year earlier).
During the car ride I said aloud that the baby would be born in the OR. I smelled meconium; I'd never attended a birth with this much. We still thought the baby was head-down, and for the first time I thought something must be wrong, though didn't share this with Dave.
I made one unsuccessful stab at conversation, then drove slowly and silently to nearby Emanuel Hospital, where the midwives had called ahead. There would be a nurse midwife waiting for us, which was comforting, though my comfort didn't seem to matter. Courtney had at least one contraction during the ride, and by now was pissed off at the simple fact that she was still contracting. I still held out hope that she'd have a vaginal birth, but she was convinced otherwise.
I followed behind Kim through the maze of hospital parking lot construction. She wound up going to the wrong garage, which caused us to have to back up and try a new spot. We parked near the emergency room and were soon walking through a temporary plywood corridor, itself more distressing and maze-like than even the parking lot had been. We had no barings or idea where we were, which seemed fitting for the experience. Finally we popped out to a front desk area and were soon ushered into one of the hospital's birthing rooms.
Kim pushed me in the wheelchair. I wanted to tell how fun it was riding in a wheelchair, but I didn't allow myself to communicate at all. I had a contraction and had to get up from the wheelchair before we got in an elevator. In the birthing room, all I wanted was an epidural. Before that, I had to have an IV inserted and needed to receive a full bag of fluid.
The hospital staff wanted a urine sample. In the bathroom, I noticed that the amount of meconium had literally quadrupled since we left the house. I was too scared to tell this to anyone.
Everyone at the hospital was incredibly kind, acknowledged my midwifery backround, and shared that they knew I didn't want to be there and were sorry I had to be. I never had to get in the bed, but instead stood at the side, unable to deal with the contractions as well as the fact that I was still contracting.
When it came to signing waivers, I knew I didn't want the baby to receive the Hep B vaccine, Vit. K injection or eye ointment. I verbalized this, then asked for Do Not Consent forms to sign because I didn't trust that my verbal request would be honored. I asked twice, which was the only time I had to ask anything more than once.
Next came the IV. The nurse said, "Let's try to get the IV in," which concerned me because every time I've ever heard anyone say "Let's try" with regards to giving an IV, they've failed. I looked at Kim, who saw my distress and came over to hold my hand. The nurse did fine, and the IV began to flow.
I still wanted my epidural. I knew I was going to have a c-section, but was the only person in the room who was expecting it. Everyone else stayed positive about a vaginal birth. This made me feel like they stupid and that I was merely placating them when I went along with their positive thinking.
I continued to manage my contractions standing at the edge of the bed or sitting on a birth ball. I felt very angry and also imagined that I was acting meanly and loudly. Apparently this wasn't true, as the nurse midwife, during a postpartum visit a few weeks later, would tell me she thought I handled the situation gracefully, all things considered. In the moment, it seemed like I was yelling at everyone, and was even yelling at the IV itself for dripping too slowly, thereby delaying the epidural. At one point, Kim literally squeezed the liquid (when no one was looking) to speed the drip. That made me smile.
The hospital staff was questioning the midwives about my history, and wanted to check on my GBS results. I was grateful that I'd chosen to test for GBS - elsewise I would have been hooked up to the IV antibiotics even longer than I was, and the baby, once she arrived, would most likely be held for observation.
When Laurie comes in, the first thing I asked was about the dogs - other than that, I kept my focus either on Kim or Liz, the latter of whom was growing concerned about the fetal decels she was seeing on the monitor after every contraction. I know now that Dave was nearby, but I have no recollection of acknowledging him or even seeing him in the room. Liz, who looked like an angel at this point - big bright eyes and blonde hair - continued to voice her concern, made a print out and left to consult with the physician on staff. In a few minutes they both came into the room to try to delicately break the news that I might be headed toward a cesarean.
After another couple of contractions Liz left again. This time, when she and the physician returned, they were more matter-of-fact. The baby would indeed be born in the OR, which I'd secretly known for at least the past two hours.
All sense of overwhelment had gone away for me at this point. There was a strange calming factor to the birthing room - perhaps it was the resignation we were all feeling that, for all intents and purposes, the labor would be over soon, as Courtney was about to head in for surgery. The attending physician began to explain what was happening in great detail and I abruptly cut him off and said I didn't care, I trusted what he was saying and just wanted the process to get started. Later, with Courtney out of the room, I finally broke down to the midwives, but for the time I'd slipped into a hyper-focus mode where I wanted the hospital staff to take over.
If I wasn't out of my body prior to all of this, I was definitely gone by now. Someone presented a consent form for the cesaraen - I scrawled my name.
