Ok, so today and tomorrow, your getting 3 stories instead of 2. Hooray!!!
This one is INTENSE!!!
This is from Kristi on the birth of Qwentin:
Wow! What a Ride!
First, if you ever want to plan a natural birth, have some back up. I totally recommend a Doula, and I definitely recommend my Doula… Without her and Kenny as my support group, I wouldn’t have been able to do this... You guys were awesome, thank you so much!
A little back story before we go all into Q’s crazy birth story…
From the start, I had told my doctor that I wanted to go all natural, didn’t want any intervention, didn’t want an induction. All the way up to 36 weeks, she was just fine with that. At 36 weeks, she tried to inform me that we would be inducing at 41 weeks… Uh, wait… Hello? No. So, I go home and do some research to make sure that what I was wanting to do was healthy, normal, and totally fine as long as both baby and I were healthy. Let me say, I found lots of info to that effect, although, not normal these days, it is completely healthy to let baby enter at his own pace as long as both mom and baby are healthy, and there haven’t been any real problems during the pregnancy .. Welcome to the age of the internet. All the info I found for her was in medical journals, so she couldn’t say that the research was from unethical or uninformed sites, and at each appointment, except one, she tried to tell me that going into labor on my own, past 41 weeks was risky and dangerous, even though I had all the info to back me up.
Sunday, May 16th, 2010
I had a feeling. I didn’t know what was in store for me, but I had momma’s intuition that something was coming. I had been worrying all weekend about what to do about the doctor. The thoughts going through my head: I cannot stand her. Literally. I do not want this woman delivering my baby, yet I am “42 and 4 days.” What can I do? Should I stick it out? It’s way too late to ask someone else to be my caregiver or deliver my child for me… Should I just go to Community South when I go into labor and give my doc the finger? Should I suck it up and go to Franklin, even though I am no longer comfortable with this woman and don‘t even want her touching me? I don’t know what to do… Yeah, those are real healthy thoughts to be having right around the end of a pregnancy… I went through my normal routine for the day, put Donevyn down for bed that night, and came downstairs. Minutes after I flopped onto the couch, the contractions started. I told Kenny I thought I was having real contractions, but wasn’t sure… We watched TV til about 11, and I was timing my contractions in my head… 10 minutes apart, lasting 30-45 seconds… I started Googling to find out what labor is supposed to feel like, even though I’d already read every labor page I could find by then, I felt like right then was the time to re-read all the information I could… Wow, those seem pretty close together, and they’re pretty fierce… They don’t stop when I change positions, they don’t chill out when I get up and move… I think this might be real labor… We head up to bed, and snuggle up, but every 10 minutes, I had to adjust my position in bed… Finally about 11:40, Kenny asked if I was ok. I told him I was pretty sure I was in labor, that I was going to continue timing them until midnight and then start calling people. A few minutes later, he gets up and calls his mother -who will be driving in from Virginia- to let her know that they need to hit the road in the morning… I called my sister, Amanda, so that she can plan to come up and stay with me the next day, watch D while I labor, and be my sitter when I needed to leave for the hospital. I texted my sister in law to let her know the same, and then I called my Doula, Vanessa, to let her know that I was in labor and would call her when I needed her to come over and help me. She recommended I get some rest, instead, I jumped on Facebook to announce my big news: I’m in labor!! And then I took her advice, and went upstairs to try to rest.
I dozed off and on through the contractions til about 4 am, then I got up. I couldn’t lay there anymore, tossing and turning, in pain, off and on… I had to get up and do something. So I got out of bed, finished packing my things up for the trip to the hospital, and then I scrubbed the toilets. We had company coming, for goodness sakes! I couldn’t let them come to a nasty house!
At 5, I went back to bed, disappointed. The contractions had subsided while I was scrubbing the toilets. Suck. Apparently what I had been experiencing was prodromal labor, what used to be known as false labor now has an actual name, and most doctors don’t consider it “false” anymore.
Monday, May 17th, 2010
Nothing. Amanda came up and we hung out all day, Kenny stayed home from work, I lay on the couch and wallowed in self pity. Yea, I’m pretty good at throwing myself a pity party… Rented a movie (The Hurt Locker… 5 stars, totally a fantastic movie) and chilled on the couch all day long. Every time I would doze off (I didn’t sleep well the night before, remember?), the contractions would start, and wake me up, and then they’d disappear as soon as they woke me… Ha, joke’s on Kristi! I was feeling like an angry watched pot by that evening… I was tired of contracting, tired of waking up, tired of not being in labor, and just plain tired. I fixed myself a sleepy snack of banana, glass of milk, brownie scented candle and nice, hot bath in the dark. Tryptophan loaded food, yummy smells, and heat? Makes for a sleepy momma… I’m pretty sure I slept 11 hours that night.
Tuesday, May 18th, 2010
I woke up fantastically refreshed! Kenny’s family got in the night before, D got up in a good mood, and I got some serious sleep! I had come to the conclusion that I was done worrying about the doctor. I’d made up my mind that I was done seeing her. I didn’t care who delivered my baby, but I was done being uncomfortable every time I went into the office. I was done being pressured to have an induction, I was done letting that woman make me cry every time I go in to see her. I. Was. Done.
I got D set up with his Grandparents, he was so excited to see them when he got up (“Meemaw! Poppie! Let’s wake up Bubby!”), fixed his breakfast, got Kenny out of bed, and went to take on the world… Before grabbing a hot shower, I put in a phone call to the doctors office to cancel my appointment for that day. Of course, while I was in the shower, she called back and basically begged me to call her back, we needed to talk. So, I did. I told her that I’m not real sure what I’m doing just yet, but that I couldn’t make the appointment that day. She tried to tell me I was a liability, and that what I was doing (letting God do his work) is ridiculous… Gee lady… I may not be real religious, but I’m pretty sure that insulting a persons religious beliefs is pretty unethical, yeah? She gets me to agree to a Non Stress Test for that afternoon at the hospital.. I’m still iffy on whether I should have told her to shove it, or to comply, but whatever, I wanted to keep an eye on the little guy too, so an NST wasn’t too much to ask… I went through the day, spent time with the family, and left for my NST. I hadn’t eaten since 11, and the NST was at 4, so I asked the nurse if I could have a glass of O.J. and a graham cracker, since I knew the little guy would be sleeping, and probably wouldn’t be very reactive since I hadn’t eaten.. They strapped me up, and we played the waiting game. 45 minutes of laying on your back is hard, especially for a pregnant woman, so I wiggled here and there, and the NST paper had squiggles all around from where I was moving. About 40 minutes in, mister woke up and started moving, and my NST paper ran out (go figure). They took the 40 minute paper of non-reaction out and called the doctor, totally disregarding the fact that he was awake now, and totally reactive. Guess who showed up 15 minutes later? You betcha. She came in waving the strip, talking about he’s non-reactive (to which I pointed at the screen to let her know he was now awake and totally reactive), and that wiggling my belly to get a reaction is not considered reactive… Really? So if I poke him, and he reacts, that’s not considered reactive? Besides, those squiggles? Not from me poking him. Then she tells me that he’s probably huge, like 9 ½ lbs (how much of that is really in his head?), floating in meconium (not really that big a deal, even meconium aspiration isn’t that big a deal, very rarely do you have issues from that), he’s going to get stuck in the birth canal with shoulder dystocia (very, very rare), my placenta is probably dying (again, if I have an organ dying inside of me, I’m pretty sure I’m going to have some side effects), and that I’m at high risk for a c-section (because??)… I ask her point blank if she honestly thinks the baby is going to die inside me, and her answer? NO. Really? So finally, I told her, if there’s an emergency and the baby must come out, cut me. I do not care. But if he is fine and I am fine, then leave us to develop normally… Which pissed her off. Of course it did. She gets paid more if I were to agree to an induction, and she would be home before the kids’ bedtime! The doc then informed me that she wouldn’t make me go find another doctor to deliver, because that would be unethical, and “just not right” (also illegal, uh hello?), but she also wouldn’t deliver any more babies for me. (Who invited you next time, anyway?) And then she left to get her nifty little piece of paper called an AMA (Against Medical Advice), and had me sign it, stating I have been informed of the risks, and am still refusing an induction. Then she walked out, all pissed off J, and, finally relieved of stress, I started having my contractions again. I finally left the hospital at 6 pm, and head home.
More visiting with family, fixing dinner, playing with the kiddo, and trying to ignore the contractions… Yep, since leaving the hospital, I had been contracting about every half hour, for about a minute each. At 9, I started really paying attention and timing them.. They were erratic, and all over the board, 10-20 minutes apart, some lasting 40 seconds, some lasting a minute 20, some lasting just 20 seconds. I was seriously disappointed, thinking, more prodromal labor. I have since learned that the little guy was posterior and this was the reason for all the random contraction times. By 11 o’clock, they were really starting to hurt me, although they were still very erratic. I called Vanessa and told her that I thought that it was real labor this time, they were stronger, but not necessarily longer or closer together, but that it was really hurting my back and I’d like her to come around midnight and try some labor techniques on me for a little while. And then I started texting people like mad. And of course, I posted on Facebook!
Vanessa comes over about midnight, and we talk and chat and I was cracking jokes.. I was feeling pretty mellow, excited, and empowered all at once, though my contractions weren’t really going anywhere, it seemed. Vanessa later let me know that she really didn’t think the baby was coming that night, and that she was planning on going home around 4ish if nothing was still happening by then. The contractions were still off kilter, 40 seconds here, 20 there, 60 a little later, and they were still not coming at any regular interval, but they sure seemed to wipe me out. By about 1 a.m., I was crawling up onto the couch after each contraction and passing out, then holding out my arms to be hauled off the couch when each contraction got unbearable. Each time a contraction would subside, it seemed Vanessa was handing me a homeopathic remedy to do one thing or another (she explained everything to me as she handed them, but it’s all a blur now). Just when I thought I was ready to give up, I had a pretty rough contraction, and I asked Kenny about how long my contractions were, how far apart, and was seriously thinking about heading to the hospital to ask for a shot of Nubane. When that contraction passed, Vanessa handed me another homeopathic, and with the next contraction, I literally felt the little guy turn inside me… What had been serious back labor turned into a rolling belt, rolling across my abdomen, lifting the pain off my back, tightening across my stomach, I was finally feeling a true contraction, no back pain at all, and then, *pop!* With that turn, he also broke my water (it really did pop), and I screamed (so Vanessa tells me), “My fucking water just broke!” Yea, I’m a classy gal.
Everything I’ve read has basically leaned toward having about an hour (or more!) to get to the hospital to birth the baby once the water breaks. Some people can go days with their water broken, and not have any issues. Oh, no. Not me! As soon as my water broke, I felt pressure on my bottom, and I screamed, and then shuffled out the front door to scream again (I had a two year old upstairs in bed, don’t want to wake the baby!).. I’m sure that had it been mid-day instead of 2:20 in the morning, someone would have been calling the cops. I stood on the front porch, trying to breathe baby back, trying to keep him from pushing through, and screaming each time a contraction tried to push him down further, and then Kenny was at my side, shuffling me to the car, getting me in the car, then running back to the house. While he was in there, I found that sitting on your bottom when baby is trying to come through is not such a good idea, so I rolled over, knees in the seat, and held onto the headrest for dear life. What seemed like an eternity later, Kenny was in the car, and we were heading out. I remember telling Kenny I didn’t think we were going to make it to Franklin, and then debating with him on which hospital we should go to (finally settling on trying to get to Franklin, because that was the plan, and Vanessa wouldn’t know to go to Greenwood, and I didn’t know where my phone was to call her, bla bla bla). So away we go, down 31 and to Franklin. Somewhere between Tracy road and Whiteland road, I reached down, because I was starting to feel the infamous “ring of fire”, and I touched… my baby’s head… He was crowning!! I continued grunting and screaming with every contraction, because I did not want this baby coming out in my car, and after one contraction, I believe I yelled at Kenny, “I can feel his head!” I may not have yelled it, but it sure seems like I did, it would have totally been appropriate to… Kenny reached over, also felt the head, and sped the car up to 90, telling me not to push (I wasn’t!), and just hold on (I was!)… Kenny continued driving, one hand on the wheel, the other on baby’s head, and we passed a cop doing 90... Kenny (always the thinker!) flipped on our hazard lights and kept on going! I finally told him to stop holding his head, to which he replied, “You can’t have this baby in your pants!” Uh, derr… I yanked my pants to my knees, and tried to wish the baby still, HA! We reached the entrance of the hospital, turned in, and I felt the head come through completely… Kenny parked the car in the Emergency entrance and ran in, telling them, “She’s having the baby, right now!” And as he’s running in, I leaned back a bit, into a crouch, and baby slid out, right into the front seat of my car. Nope, I didn’t catch him. I reached down to pick up my little bundle, who is screaming, pissed off, and cold, and I scooped him into my arms and cradled him… A few seconds later, Kenny, the E.R. doc, several nurses and a gurney come flying out the doors.. When they open up the car door, there we sit, Mama and baby, snuggled up in the front seat of the car. They loaded me onto the gurney and wheeled me back to finish the birth process and get me and baby warmed up. They tried to give me a shot of pitocin, which of course, I refused, and then bundled me up under a ton of warm blankets because I was shaking so badly, they thought I was cold… It was actually the remnants of my spent adrenaline… I was tired, wired, and happy… My little man was weighed and wrapped in a warm blanket, then set back into my arms…
Qwentin Tyler Simpson
May 19th, 2:40 a.m.
7 lb 15.5 oz (they rounded it to 8 lb even), 19.5 inches long