Guess who's back???? Though after reading Rick's sweet and funny posts, this might not be such a welcome return. Good to know there's someone around that can pick up the slack should I be indisposed.
So guess what? Newborns require a bit of oversight and time. Who knew? Hopefully the blog will not suffer. For the time being, you will have to forgive any and all typos or grammar mistakes because this chick can't seem to remember if it's AM or PM right now and I really want to document Annie's arrival before the memory goes the way of Annie's pink monkey PJs (had them in my hand last night, and are now nowhere to be found). I will try to be brief (but won't be successful) and not duplicate a lot of the stuff Rick already wrote about.
Of course we arrived at the hospital a little early on Sunday night and had to wait 15 minutes to be checked in to avoid being charged a full day by insurance. As we were waiting, a couple came in that was in labor. She was 30 weeks along and carrying twins. Yikes. We eventually got checked into our room and by 1:30 AM, the pitocin drip had been started. I was slightly miserable at this point because the IV had to be placed right on my wrist, which meant any time I moved my hand I could feel that needle moving around. Julie, our nurse, informed me this was the second worst spot for an IV. Very reassuring, that Julie. I assume the worst would be your eyelid.
I was trying to see how long I could go without pain meds. This was not some valiant effort to have a natural birth; I know I am too big of a wimp for that. Rather, I didn't want the epidural to slow things down. The plan was to up the dosage of pitocin ever 30 minutes, starting a 2 (unit of measure unknown). At 2:00 AM they upped me to 4 and then about 15 minutes later about 5 nurses rushed into the room and made me roll over to my side. There was an issue with Annie's/Super's heart rate dropping and the contractions were less frequent, so they dropped me back down to 2. There was also difficulty accessing my "out of range" cervix, so all of these things pointed to it being a long day.
By around 4:30 they started upping the dosage again because the heart rate had evened out. At some point they put in an internal monitor to gauge the intensity of the contractions, which was fun to watch. At the end of Julie's shift I was still at 2 cm. Now I had nurse Paula, who I thought was a little cold at first, but turned out to be amazing. This will be a common theme for my experience with the nurses at MoBap. Just when you are sad to see one go, the one that replaces her is even more caring and nurturing. Paula made sure I was comfortable, reassured me that I could get the epidural any time I wanted, and flipped my pillow to the cool side on the regular. Were it not for the crazy pain, I would have been in heaven. It was like having your mom for a delivery nurse.
At around 7:30 I had had enough pain and I decided to throw in the towel and call for the epidural. By around 8:00 (times are approximate as my notes end at this point; hard to operate an iPhone through the contractions) my water broke, which was a bizarre experience. Not as dramatic as you see on TV but still strange. At this point, things started to get a little more intense, but I was trying to tough it out as there ws the light of the epidural at the end of the tunnel. Sweet Paula then informed me that the anesthesiologist (who will be referred to as Billy from this point forward-names are not changed to protect the innocent) was working on someone else and that he'd be in shortly. Or an hour later. I guess they have two "Billys", but one was in a c-section and the other was working on someone else. The nerve. Eventually Billy came in and got me started. I was more than a little nervous about this part as it's a needle and my spine and all that nonsense, but Paula talked me through it and it was not bad at all. It all got better from there. At the check following administration of pitocin, I was 5 cm dilated.
I was feeling no pain by 9. Dr J came back in to check my monitors because the intensity of the contractions wasn't making sense (less intense, though they were upping pitocin). Turns out the monitor was having issues, and was replaced with one that showed that these things should be measuring on the richter scale. Vindication!
At 11 sweet Paula's shift ended and DeAnn came in. Imagine a younger Meredith Vieira. At this point, all families are represented and are in and out of the room in between their feedings. I had been blessed with a massive case of heart burn that made food the last thing on my mind. The heart rate continued to fluctuate and they flipped me from side to side to find a place where she would not have issues. They theorized that it was an issue with the cord being either too short or wrapped around her. I tried not to focus on either of these scenarios. I also tried not to focus on the weather situation brewing outside and the sound of frequent thunder and lightening. I knew it was serious when family members opted for cafeteria food rather than to brave the storm.
DeAnn decided it was time to get this party started so she came up with some new and humiliating positions for me to be in to try to make the baby more comfortable. As a result, most family members were required to leave the room at this point, lest they see something they can't ever un-see. These deliveries are dangerous times for everyone.
After being in what I will call "downward cow" for about an hour, I was checked at 12:00 and was at 8 cm!!! DeAnn placed me on my right side and at this point I made the decision to not move a muscle as Super was tolerating everything well. I was advised that if I started to feel pressure "down there" to let them know. This time is a bit hazy, but I know Rick was playing songs we picked out for Super/Annie, both sets of grandparents were there, Liza and Chaney took turns working on my pony tail, Dan visited on his lunch break, my Mom got details repeatedly from DeAnn, and my Dad held my hand. Oh, and the power went out. There were discussions of a "
Code Gray", which would involve us having to move to the hallway. Cue the theme music from ER.
I did feel a bit of pressure, but it wasn't constant and I didn't want to be an alarmist. After being still for about an hour and a half, DeAnn checked me and I was fully dilated, fully effaced, and the baby was knocking at the door. She called for Dr J because it had progressed so quickly and advised that we could go straight to pushing. I panic a bit at this point because everything is getting really real, really quickly. I shed a few tears and manage to focus on the instructions on how to push a human out of my body. DeAnn states that this could go on for a while, so be prepared.
We had originally thought only my sister Chaney and Rick would be in the room, but as they were both being utilized to hold my knees, we asked my other sister, Liza, to be in the room to man the camera. Liza's known for being a little squeamish and not fond of emergency situations, so I wasn't sure if she was even going to want to be there. She rallied and manned the camera while I got set to push for the first time. God bless the person that invented the epidural, because I couldn't feel a thing. I also think the past 10 years of physical activity finally came in handy because after the first round of pushes/contraction, DeAnn again called for Dr. J and he arrived out of nowhere. Liza was looking a little green at this point and DeAnn became concerned that maybe she should be elsewhere, but Dr J took one look at her, proclaimed that her color was normal and that she was not going anywhere. He's the OB for all three of the Harkins gals, so he knows us a bit more intimately than most and we all found his bossing Liza around to be very funny.
After the next contraction he gave me a few more pointers on how to get this baby out. I utilized my new instructions and after the next round her head was out! Chaney was providing color commentary at this point and shouted that Super had my chin. For some reason, this made me laugh and I guess that pushed Super out a bit further. Dr J "helped" me out a bit downstairs and Chaney announced "She's sticking her tongue out!". This made me laugh again and just like that...Ann Emerson Erwin was born. It was 2:35 PM on May 23, 2011. She weighed 6 pounds 7 ounces and is 20 inches long. She's perfect.
Well, perfect except for her pooping right before she was born (meconium spotted in the fluid at the last minute). This, coupled with the fact that what was theorized to be a short cord was actually super-long and being worn as an accessory (slung over her shoulder and wrapped around her waist) and a fast trip through the birth canal, results in a trip to the NICU. I guess her breathing was labored as well, though they weren't sure what was causing that issue (one of the aforementioned issues or something else).
We held our baby for about a minute each and then she was gone to be checked out. I have never been so elated and terrified at the same time. I was ultimately moved to my recovery room where I would stay the next two days while Annie was tended to in the NICU. As they weren't sure what was wrong, no one could give me any answers as to how long she would be there. Original estimates were optimistic that it could be resolved quickly, however the story started to change after they continued to monitor her.
When Rick and I first visited Annie on Monday evening, she was hooked to a C-PAP machine, which is essentially a sleep apnea oxygen delivery device. It took up 75% of her face and was heart-breaking. There was also a tube running from her mouth to her stomach to relieve some of the pressure in her belly from the oxygen. I was told that if all went well during their evening rounds that I could probably hold her if I came back around 10:30. I couldn't think of one thing that would keep me from that. When I did finally get to hold her, I was a blubbering mess and had to have the nurses regularly delivering me tissues. It was not pretty. Because Rick had been up for around 48 hours and we didn't have the baby in our room, he went home to get a good night's sleep and bring back provisions for the next day.
Tuesday was a roller coaster. When we visited in the morning, the C-PAP had been replaced by high flow nasal cannula, which was encouraging. Annie had also ripped out the tube running to her stomach and they decided not to replace it, which was great. But, they were also concerned about infection, which would require antibiotics for a minimum of 48 hours (could be as long as 5 days). This, of course, meant that she would be staying past our discharge date, which was to be Wednesday. Not great newsAt around 11 I was allowed to try my first feeding, which was amazing. Not successful, but amazing. As the day progressed, they did remove the breathing cannula, which enabled us to get a good glimpse of our baby's face. Lots of ups and downs.
By Wednesday things were looking up, but we had to figure out how to handle us leaving and her staying. The nurses allowed us to stay in our room until around 6 that evening and then we packed our bags and went home. As my milk hadn't come in yet, we also had to make the decision to give her formula, which was difficult for me as I had read so much about the dangers of nipple confusion, how formula is evil, and so forth. However, when the lactation consultant advises you that it's for the best, I felt much better about it as she wasn't getting nutrients from anywhere else.
If your baby is in the NICU, they have to pass a 2 hour car seat tolerance test to make sure they don't have issues when placed in the car seat. This, as Rick previously mentioned, was completed in the closet of the NICU a we were under the ominous Code Gray. Annie apparently thrives in stressful conditions (she gets that from her father) because she slept through the whole thing. Meanwhile I was a nervous wreck thankful to the weather armageddon outside and the notion that if she failed this test, she would have to retest and possibly delay her discharge. At this point, we had been advised that she would be discharged on Thursday morning! Her IV had been removed and they were going to administer the last rounds of antibiotics via shots instead of putting it back in.
Annie, chillin' during the Code Gray closet car seat test.
We returned to the hospital that evening and continued to try to feed her but really no success so they continued with the formula feedings, which she seemed to tolerate well. Whatever gets the job done at this point. Rick and I came home that night knowing that this was our last time sleeping in the house without our child and I think I would have had troubles sleeping had I not been so emotionally exhausted.
We hopped out of bed and were at the hospital by 9:30 Thursday morning (had to wait until her hearing screening was complete) and got the whole discharge interview complete (I am sure there was important information delivered here, though I remember none of it; I was a bit distracted). Rick got Annie into her car seat and we were on our way!
Ready to go! And no, there's not another baby still left in that belly.
So after what seems like a VERY long journey, Annie is home and we are figuring this all out. It was a crazy few days but I would do it 100 times over for the end result. We finally have our baby.
