A Little Miracle

I am so lucky to have my little girl. When I think back to all that I went through during my pregnancy, it is a wonder that she even arrived. After getting confirmation that I was pregnant, a couple of key incidents happened that made very scared to even announce to people that I was expecting. 

Early on I found myself bleeding a lot and having cramps that doctors assured me was normal. I kept crying because I knew something was wrong. The more I called the doctors, the more they said bleeding in the first trimester was normal. Until one day it wasn’t. 

I found myself feeling very sick to my stomach one day. I attributed it to the hormonal ups and downs of pregnancy but it was enough for me to call out sick. I felt better the next morning so I went into work only to be bent over in agony at my desk that afternoon. I kept thinking it was something I had eaten. When I just couldn’t take it anymore, I left work and took a cab home. As I writhed in pain in bed, the pain getting unbearable, I called the doctors. I told them what was happening. They told me to go to their office immediately. 

A trip that normally should have taken 10 minutes by taxi took 45 minutes because President Obama was in town. I thought I was going to die in the cab…tears rolling down my cheek and my nails ripping the fake leather of the car seat. 

When we finally got to the doctors, they did an ultrasound. They found I had a lot of fluid in my uterus. And yes, that I was bleeding a little too much. The culprit could have been one of a number of things: an ovarian torsion (an ovary is twisted upon itself), an ectopic pregnancy or an ovarian cyst that had ruptured. The only possible way for them to know what was going on was to operate. They confirmed that the fetus was doing fine but in having the operation, there was a chance that I could lose the baby. Knowing this information was not very comforting in my decision to go forward with the operation. 

Luckily the operation was successful and the baby was doing fine. But the culprit was in fact another embryo that had implanted itself into my Fallopian tube and that had ruptured. I had to have my tube removed.

As I was recovering, my dad’s health deteriorated and he passed away a little less than a month after my surgery. Even though I had prepared myself for the worst with regards to my dad’s health, I was still devastated and sad for a quite a while. I was afraid for a bit that the shock would impact my growing baby. I will never know if it did until many months or years from now. 

When I look at her now and the joy she brings me (even when she fights her sleep), I can’t believe she is here. It was a very long journey to see her birth.  And I know it will be a long journey until she becomes an adult but I am happy to have gone through it already. It has taught me many lessons about myself and my daughter and it makes her all the more special in my eyes.

Labor Day

In the United States the first Monday in September is traditionally the day when we celebrate work. We call it Labor Day. It is a national holiday and we have the day off so that it is a long weekend. Work in this sense is the kind where we go on a daily basis from 9-5 or whatever your profession’s time frame is.

This year Labor Day meant a little more to me than just work – and the joy of having a three day weekend. It was ironic because I gave birth during this weekend and spent some time in the Labor and Delivery area of my local hospital. Needless to say, my daughter arrived just shy of actual Labor Day so she has a wicked sense of humor like her mom. 

It all started Sunday morning. I woke up feeling fine and feeling a little odd that my baby’s due date came and went. I went to the gym as usual and came home. I was making plans to have brunch with my sister and to go run some errands together. That plan fell short very quickly when I got a very painful cramp that I had not felt during my pregnancy. I told my sister not to worry that it probably was nothing. Until it was something because not even 5 minutes later, I had another cramp and felt the need to go to the bathroom to urinate.

My bathroom visit gave me the visual cue that this was in fact active labor. I came out of the bathroom to announce “Guys, it’s time”. This set the house in a frenzy because my mom had just come over with groceries. When my husband notified her that it was time to go to the hospital, she wasn’t sure what to do with the groceries she had just purchased. She rushed home to put them away.

My main concern, outside of breathing through the contractions was, I need to eat something. I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it through labor without food in my stomach. So my sister ran to get me a bagel and cream cheese because that was the quickest thing that could be prepared and eaten on the way to the hospital.  Once she arrived from the local deli, we were off and my sister spent the night with my dogs. It was very comforting to know they would be in good hands.

We met my mom outside and I tried to talk her out of not coming to the hospital but being a stubborn Italian woman, there was not much I could do to convince her. We jumped in a cab and when we got to the hospital, I proceeded to eat my bagel. We saw the doctor outside the doors and her comment was “Just don’t eat anything you don’t want to see later."

After completing my breakfast, we went up to the Labor and Delivery floor. We registered and proceeded to wait in the triage room. As I was timing my contractions and feeling like I was going to die, the other women in the room were reading books. I kept thinking, they must be getting induced or they are much stronger than me. It was the former. 

My doctor came in to tell us there were no beds available yet as there were many people who decided to give birth that same day.  “Must have something to do with Labor Day and the full moon,” she said. I continued to wait and breathe and finally she came to ask the women waiting if we could jump ahead. Luckily they figured out I was in active labor so they let me go ahead of them. When we finally got set up with an IV and on the fetal monitor, I was 4-5 centimeters dilated. It was painful but I was breathing through it as much as possible. 

Eventually I was moved into my own delivery room and the doctor notified me that I was only at 6-7 centimeters. The pain at this point was excruciating – breathing techniques and digging into the bed weren’t doing very much to help me through the intense and unending contraction. Incredulously I said to the doctor, “That’s it?” At that moment, I asked the nurse for an epidural. She got that going because there was no way I would make it through the next couple centimeters without some pain assistance. 

The anesthesiologists came to administer the epidural which baffled my mom. She was couldn’t understand what they were doing so I explained to her that it was for pain. She was worried about the ramifications. Once I got the epidural, things were definitely better. I could still feel the contractions but not the pain. One side of my body however became completely numb and I couldn’t feel it. I tried to move my leg around to get some circulation going but it wasn’t much help. It was like moving a boulder with a feather. 

I progressed from 7-8 centimeters but then my contractions got weaker. My baby wasn’t yet quite in place to come out. Finally I got to 9 cms but my contractions weren’t any stronger. They decided to give me pitocin – a medicine to make the contractions stronger. But as the contractions got stronger, I was feeling pain on the other side of my body. So the anesthesiologist was called in to give me some more medication.  Apparently this extra medication didn’t make my baby happy and she was stressing out in my stomach. Her vital signs showed a change and she ended up pooping inside of me. 

At that point the doctor came clean and said that I had to start to push because the baby needed to come out. I wasn’t yet at 10 cms but it would have to be done. So delivery began. 

Oh and how could I forget that moments after I got the epidural, I began to vomit incessantly? It seemed like every two minutes whatever was in my stomach decided it didn’t want to be there anymore. The doctor didn't know earlier that her comment about eating would come to fruition. If it weren’t for this, delivery wouldn’t have been so bad. But every time I pushed, I wanted to throw up on the doctor. I’m sure that she has had this happen before but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just gag on myself or the doctor to try to push.

Less than an hour of delivery, my little cookie was born and as the doctor stitched me up, my husband took a million pictures. My mom nearly passed out from all the blood she had seen come out of me and especially from seeing the placenta being delivered. I am not sure how she didn’t throw up herself but her face said it all. For a few days after giving birth, my mom couldn’t stop saying how much blood I had lost. I told her that she probably lost just as much but she retorted “Yeah but I didn’t see it.” I had to give her credit – those screens must have been a good thing. I could see a lot of what was happening in the plastic visor that covered my doctor’s face. 

It is a wonder how so many women go through this type of work on a daily basis. Somehow we labor and deliver babies all over the world every minute of every day. Not only do we celebrate mothers on Mother’s day but we should also honor them on Labor Day as well.