Kiara's Birth Story Part III

This is the last part of Kiara's birth story. It's a little painful so don't feel like you have to read it.

Here are links to Part I and Part II in case you missed them.

Part III

They rolled me into surgery and I told myself it would be okay. The room was bright and filled with people. I moved from the bed to the table. They were surprised I could still move so much. Yeah, the epidural had worn off.

They laid me out like I was on a cross, drew up a blue curtain, and prepped me for surgery. The anesthesiologists added an additional dose of pain meds. Cold numbness returned. I stared at the bright white ceiling and thought of my baby girl. She would be here soon. I would finally meet her. An anesthesiologist pricked me with a pin to help determine if I was numb enough. I guess I was numb enough. David came in and they started.

I felt the tugging of my body against knife. I tried not to think about my body flayed open, and waited as David held my shoulder. I could both feel and not feel what was happening and then there was a cry and. She was here. I turned to my left where a nurse held a bloody, screaming baby. “She’s beautiful,” David said, but I wasn’t sure.

Then the baby was gone, but the pain was there, a growing, burning ache. David went to cut the cord and be with our baby.

One of the anesthesiologists told me congratulations. I nodded. I just wanted it to be over.

“What’s wrong?” she asked and I shook my head. I had no words for the pain I was feeling. The doctor was hard at work. It felt like he was vacuuming my insides. I couldn’t breathe, and then I asked, “How much pain am I supposed to be feeling?” The anesthesiologist paused for a moment. “What do you feel?” I described the tugging and pulling going on below my abdomen and the room went quiet. “We’ll give you another dose.”

David was with the baby. The doctor worked in silence. My body turned cold. I couldn’t stop my arms from shaking. The baby wailed. The pain persisted and the tears came. The burning pulling and tugging of my body against the doctor’s strokes was too much. “We’re almost done,” he said.

David was there with our crying little girl and an eternity later, they finished. Weeks later, David told me he thought was going to lose me on the table, but I never thought I would die. I just lay there, quivering, until someone crossed my arms on my chest. That’s when I started to breathe again. I stopped shivering and they rolled me into recovery. I held my gorgeous newborn daughter to my chest. She was here, crying but healthy. We were okay. 

Kiara Harper Nakada-Gantt April 1, 2012 12:34 am 7 lbs. 8 oz.

Kiara's Birth Story Part II

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Part II

By 5:00 am Saturday morning, I was exhausted. I’d been awake for almost 24 hours, laboring for about six. The nurse was optimistic. She said I was reacting well to the Pitocin. We would surely have the baby before April 1. She went off duty at 7:00 am when I was about 5 cm dilated. She was our good luck charm. When she left, things went downhill.

I asked for pain meds which they gave through an IV. Those meds sucked me into a fitful sleep. I couldn’t keep my head up, but I could still feel the tug and pull of contractions through the soupy fog of a darkened room where nurses and doctors came and went. They asked me questions, but my responses were sluggish and confused. I eventually asked for the epidural. I suppose this was my surrender. I didn’t want to hurt anymore. It was so much work.

There were a couple of C-sections happening, so the anesthesiologists couldn’t get to me for a while. When she did, she reminded me of one of my students. I was still under the influence of the first pain meds. I tried to play it straight, like the meds weren’t making me completely loopy. I was a drunk trying to fake sobriety. I wasn’t convincing, but I followed her instructions, at least I think I did.

The epidural froze me to my bed. I couldn’t move. My body was asleep but I was wide-awake. I couldn’t stop shivering. My body tensed, fighting the drugs that urged my muscles to relax. Finally, someone pulled a blanket over me. I warmed up. I fell asleep. I was still only 5 cm dilated.

The doctor decided to break my water. She pulled out what looked like a long chopstick. I think it was then she mentioned that in a couple hours, if I still hadn’t progressed, we would need to go C-section. I heard her, but I was still telling my body to open, urging the baby to drop, to let me push her out.

I didn’t progress. It was almost April first, a day for fools. The doctor said they’d prep me for surgery. The baby would be here before midnight. Through exhaustion and the epidural, I struggled to accept that there would be no pushing, no vaginal delivery.

My family arrived from Portland. As I’d struggled through 24 hours of labor, they survived a harrowing flight and arrived in LA before the baby. Through weary tears I told them we were having a C-section. They told me it would be okay.

The epidural started to wear off. The pain of contractions seeped back in. I told the nurses, but they were busy prepping me for surgery. They replaced the meds, but the pain persisted and then they had to unhook my IV to transport me.

As they rolled me to surgery I told them, “I’m not numb. I can feel the contractions. I need you to know I’m not numb.”

They told me not to worry. The anesthesiologists would make sure it was all right.

Click here for part III

Kiara's Birth Story Part I

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So, here's a first glimpse into how Kiara Harper came into our lives... The images are courtesy of David. You can check out more of his pictures on his photo blog. 

She waited like we asked. I’d been counting the days to spring break, checking items off my lengthy to-do list and on the last day of school before spring break, four days before my due date, I shed my mucus plug in a filthy faculty restroom. I looked in the bowl at the cloudy mess and thought, well, maybe she is on her way early. Good. We are ready. 

We thought we were ready. 

I thought I was ready. 

Apparently, when they say you’re never ready, they speak truth.

I didn’t know what contractions felt like. Sure, there was “tightening” around my abdomen, but I expected pain. I experienced a little cramping, but less painful than the first day of my period. I had contractions, but walked through them, breathed right through them. On Friday night, three days before my due date, something felt different. I stood and walked restlessly. The tightening started happening more frequently, and then there was a trickle. A dirty brown liquid trickle. It was no gush, but it was enough for us to call the hospital. It was enough for the nurse at labor and delivery to tell us to come in.

In the car we started timing the tightening sensations. They happened about every three minutes. That seemed too fast, but I was unconvinced this was labor. Where was the pain?

We parked the car and walked to labor and delivery. A nurse hooked me up to monitors and told me I'd just had a contraction. David watched the monitor and told me contractions were coming every two to three minutes. The nurse slid a bedpan under my hips so the doctor could see how far I’d dilated. A woman in another room screamed through a contraction.

“Only two centimeters,” the doctor said, “And a lot of bloody show so I can’t tell if the water’s broken.”

She took a look with the ultrasound. My fluid levels were low. She admitted me. This was game time. This was actually going to happen. 

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It was a full house that Friday night at Kaiser’s Labor and Delivery. We settled into the last room. An IV was inserted, and I was still able to walk around and keep breathing through the pain. I knew if I kept moving it would help things along. David and I walked around the quiet halls. Time took on new meaning. It was about 2:00 am when we settled in to try to get some sleep.

It’s impossible to sleep through contractions coming every two to three minutes.

I kept breathing, focusing, checking the monitors to see how close together the contractions were coming. They started me on Pitocin to try to move things along. I should have known then, things were not likely to go the way I imagined.

 
Click here for Part II