The Day Of- 02.25-26.07

Dr Hansen walked in and sat on the foot of the bed. He said "Hi. Scary." And I don't remember what I said. He took another look with the ultrasound machine. He said "This happens to me about once a year." I know he was trying to help me understand. He talked to us about what was going to happen now. He said more than likely what had happened was that the cord had gotten wrapped around our baby, cutting off her oxygen. He said we were going to be induced. I told him I wanted a c section. I wanted to be knocked out completely and I wanted them to take the baby out while I slept. He told me this was not a good idea. He said I needed to go through the labor process. I needed to bond with the baby. Who was he kidding? I had bonded with this baby for the last 8 1/2 months. I had slept with her, eaten with her. Sang to her. I had felt her kicking me for months. But to be fair, he also mentioned that having a c-section would affect future pregnancies. He wanted me to think it through because I would probably end up with subsequent surgeries if I chose that route. And he knew I did not want to have surgery. He brought in the anesthesiologist to talk to me about our options. Because I had eaten 3 hours previously, if I decided I wanted the surgery, we would have to wait at least 8 hours. Or they could start medicine for induction. Mike and I talked about it. I wanted to get it over with. We decided not to have a c section. (Let me also point out that at this time, I was almost at the point of being unable to make any decision on my own. Mike was my eyes and ears and mouth for the next 2 days. If I was asked a question, I could barely answer it without his help. He is my rock. My strength, and my heart. He is the strongest person I know, and without him, I would never have made it through this.) My concept of time at this point is fuzzy. From this point on, things happened, and while I know the basic order of how and when they happened, I couldn't tell you specific times. I will try not to get too mixed up. Our families came in and everyone cried. (I've been told that throughout the days, I was eerily calm.) Our family members came into the room, and no one spoke much. Mostly, people stood or sat around for hours and stared at me. (This was one of the hardest things for me. The way everyone looked at me. Not really as if they thought I had done something wrong. But like they didn't know what to say, and they thought staring at me would bring the words. I didn't feel accused, but I felt raw from being so exposed to everyone. I really, really, wanted everyone to leave me and Mike alone. But I also knew that they too had lost this baby, and I knew that Mike would need support, because I was unable to give him anything at that time.) Sometime later that night, the nurse gave me my first does of Cytotec, to help soften my cervix. It was the most painful thing they did to me. The nurse (Jodi) gave me a shot of Demerol and some Ambien to help me sleep. The Demerol was really nice. I felt floaty and drunk. But I still didn't get much sleep. Between being so emotionally exhausted, and the nurses coming in every 1/2 hour, it was hard to rest. At some point, Mike took the BP cuff off my arm because it was going off every 15 minutes, waking us up if we drifted off. In the middle of the night, more Cytotec. Not as painful with the Demerol, and another dose of that as well. The next morning, we had more visitors. And the waiting began. They started my Pitocin. I was already having pretty strong contractions by then, and the Demerol wasn't taking care of all of them. At this point, I didn't want to feel anything at all. The nurses said if I wanted an epidural, I had to get it now, because the anesthesiologist was going into surgeries and it was my last chance for a while. So (even thought it was probably only 11am) I got my epi. This was something that had scared me during my whole pregnancy. Just the thought of it had me shaking. But when it came time, it was over very quickly. It didn't hurt, and it started working almost immediately. My nurse kept coming into the room and turning off the Pitocin. I was having contractions so strong, they thought my uterus was in danger of rupturing. Then they would turn it back on to get me going again. On, off, on, off. At some point, I started feeling really achy in my lower back. Then it turned into a pressure-pain mix. My epidural wasn't working anymore. The anesthesiologist came back in (I guess he was between surgeries) and told us it was on a pump and wouldn't run out. I said I could feel my back was very cold, and I was having severe back pain. (The doctor was very nice about the whole thing, but I could tell he thought I was full of crap). He checked the line, and figured out that the tube was leaking, and the medication had been running down my back for who knows how long. I guess I wasn't lying. He fixed the problem, re-dosed me so he wouldn't have to come back, and went on his way. All morning, and maybe even since the night before, a nurse (?) from the U of U was coming into our room. She was part of a stillbirth study, and they wanted us to participate. More to the point, they wanted our baby to participate. They would pay for an autopsy to be done on our girl. This woman was in and out of our room at least 15 times. She wanted us to sign the papers. She kept pleading her case. I don't know if we agreed because we wanted to help, or just to make her go away. I think it was some of both. My doctor came in and broke my water. I really have no idea how dilated I was at this point. Everything is so fuzzy.. Anyway, sometime later in the afternoon, it was almost time to push. Mike and I had turned on the tv finally, and we were watching a classic car auction. I remember Christopher Titus was selling one of his cars, and he had his little girl in the car with him. The nurse (Teri) came in and had me start pushing, just to see how I did. We all watched the car show together for a while. When my doctor came in to deliver the baby, he made us turn off the tv, and I was a little mad. I would've liked the distraction, I guess. But as I look back now, I'm really glad we were focused on the task at hand. For some strange reason, we had two nurses. Teri was training someone named Jan. I was confused as to why this was a good time to have a newbie nurse being trained, but whatever. I had to be told when to push, because I could not feel any of the contractions at all. I was completely numb from the chest down. I started pushing at about 3:50p.m. Mike held my left leg, Teri and I held my right leg. Teri would count, and I would push. I remember thinking how easy it was. After all the worries, all the stories.. This was easy. Like it came so naturally to me. Hold your breath, and push. Have a baby. I pushed for 10 minutes and the doctor told me to stop and push slowly. I didn't. Gung ho. I felt her shoulders come out (because I tore open at that point.) Dr. Hansen asked if Mike wanted to cut the cord, and he said yes. This surprised me, because of our discussions in the past. I loved him so much at that moment, I couldn't breathe. He handed her to Teri, and in the transfer of one person to the other, they almost dropped my baby. My doctor said "Give her to mom. Without dropping her, please." I asked Teri to please wash her off before she handed her to me. She did, and then she wrapped her up and handed me my baby.

Charlotte was born at 4:10p.m. She weighed 6 lbs 2oz. She was 19 inches long. She had dark blond hair. My nose, Mike's mouth. At some point, we were crying. We looked at her, we held her. The nurse asked us if we would like her to be bathed in our room or in the nursery. She stayed in our room. The nurse re-dressed her as I was getting my stitches. They put her in a footed sleeper. It was white and frilly with a pink rosebud at the top. They gave her a white knitted hat. She was wrapped in a green blanket with pink and blue giraffes. We had her with us for 4 hours. She was still warm from my body. We held her, talked to her. Mike would come over and take her out of my arms, and I kept thinking how tiny she looked in his arms. I kept saying "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." to her. We told her we loved her. We told her how much we wanted her. I told Mike "I'm glad Laura is up there to take care of her." We gave her Laura's name. At one point, I told Mike, "I feel like this isn't our baby. Our baby was so feisty." I regret saying it, but it was what I felt. Our baby was so full of life. She had such an attitude.. Mike said "It is our baby and she was feisty." Our families came in to see her. I wouldn't let anyone else hold her. When it was time for her to go (Primary Children's Medical Center was there for her. That's where they were taking her for the autopsy.) our nurse (Kristy) asked us if we would like to keep her clothes. We said no. We didn't want her to be cold on her trip to the other hospital. She asked if we wanted pictures. We said no. We had taken a picture with our camera. She asked if we wanted hand and footprints. We said yes, please. And then our baby was gone.
A few hours later, my nurse came back to get me cleaned up. Kristy bound my breasts to prevent my milk from coming in (which didn't work..) And then it was time to move to a different room. I believe they said it was because the floor was full. I know they thought I would be better off away from the maternity ward. They took me downstairs (I seriously felt as though they stuck me in the basement.) My new nurse acted as if I was already being a pain. It took a few hours, but I think she finally read my chart, and then she was very gentle and kind. Mike and I both slept in my bed. The next morning, after the doctors and nurses had come to let us know what to look for in the next few days, and have us sign the discharge papers. I wanted to go home so badly. Then a nurse came in and said my bloodwork (They had taken what seemed like gallons the night before. For tests, for labwork, for the SCRN study) had come back and said I was not immune to Rubella. As I was arguing, I was immunized before 10th grade, the nurse stuck a needle in the back of my left arm. It hurt like hell. Burned. I was crying again. Why wouldn't they just let me go home? And then they did. I was wheeled out, bawling. Mike got the car. We got in it and drove away from the hospital without our baby girl. We came home and slept for hours. We buried her on Saturday, March 3. The day my milk came in.