Harrison's Birth Story

Editor's Note: If you are at all scared of childbirth, or are currently pregnant or plan to be pregnant soon, you might want to skip this one. My experience was rare and I know when you're pregnant you're so heightened to reading these sorts of things. Also, with everything that happened I don't have the best memory of the details of this 36 hour period. So bare with me.

Our story began on Wednesday, March 14th. As expected, I had gone past my due date (March 12th), but the morning of March 14th I knew the labor was starting. I had finished work the Friday before so was home, and immediately called Nick.. We called my doctor and he wanted us to head into the hospital to check things out. When I got there I was having contractions, but mild and everything else looked great so they sent me home to ride it out. It could be days before labor truly kicked in. Fast forward to 11pm that night. My contractions were about 5 minutes apart consistently so we grabbed our hospital bag(s) and made our way to the hospital where they confirmed I was in labor and admitted me.

We slept through the night ok, besides them coming to check my vitals (what felt like) every 2 seconds. I would marry any labor/delivery nurse because they are all angels but I just wanted some sleep. In the morning things started to ramp up. My birth plan was pretty simple -- do whatever you need to do to keep the baby and me healthy. I managed the pain for the first 10 hours of labor with walks and the dumb bouncing ball but finally asked for an epidural around 2pm. Wow, life changing you guys. But, this is where things started to go array. The tube for the epidural was faulty, so about an hour in, my contractions (and intense pain) came back in all their glory, and I started freaking out because you don't mess around with needles in your spine and what the hell was going on. The anesthesiologist was so calm, like this happens everyday which did not make me feel better. But they fixed it, and ramped up the dosage which I appreciated then but would not in a few hours. 

At around 4pm on Thursday, we went into full blown "active" labor. I laughed when they said this because I had been in crazy contraction pain land since the morning. One thing no one tells you is that your doctor, or whatever doctor is on call, will not be there the whole time. They pop their head in every hour or so to make sure everything is going ok which I was not into. Anyways, we're in active labor now and they want me to start pushing. The difficult thing is that with the epidural I can't feel the contractions all that well so I just listen when the sweet nurse Marianne says "Ok this is a contraction PUSH" and I sort of push but I feel like I'm just pushing in my brain and my head is going to explode. It's the weirdest feeling. This goes on for hours. There is no development. Finally around 10pm the resident or whoever she was says she can see the head! Nick and I are like "Wait, what?!" Because strangely that moment is when it all gets real. The doctor comes in to look and doesn't seem really thrilled which I was surprised by. All she said was she wanted to turn down my epidural so I can push stronger against the contractions. The anesthesiologist comes back in, and gives me the whole schpeel about once its turned down it can't be turned back up. I was like I guess that's fine? The doctor wants it down and I'm going to go with whatever she says. So he turns it down and I can feel the contractions intensify but the weird thing is when you push against them it relieves them so it's kinda nice? So we keep on doing this for another 2 hours, and there is still no progression. The doctor seems a bit concerned now and more people are coming into the room and checking things when all the sudden everything shifts. The feeling in the room totally changes and I know something is wrong. I hear them saying how it wasn't the head we saw but apparently the top part of something or other before the head comes and there has been no progression for a lot longer than they thought and the baby was stuck.

I look at Nick and start freaking out and crying hysterically. He calms me down and says they know what they're doing we're going to be fine it happens all the time. Angel nurse Marianne is also whispering sweet nothings in my ear but I am sobbing. Around this time all the details get very fuzzy so bear with me. All the sudden there is beeping. A lot of beeping and alarms and everything else and the baby's heart rate has dropped drastically. They give me the option of an emergency c-section or to vacuum the baby out, but the doctor recommends the section because she doesn't think time is on our side at this point. There is paperwork to sign (WHY DO THEY NOT DO THIS BEFORE HAND IN THE CASE THAT IT MIGHT HAPPEN?!) I am trembling and crying. There are 1000 people in our room and everyone is moving so fast I can barely see straight. I feel like I'm breaking Nick's fingers I'm holding them so tight. They prep me and the OR all so fast and I'm all hooked up but now they can't get me numb enough because of the issues earlier that day with my epidural.. For what feels like hours we play the game of "Can you feel this? How about this?" Surprise! I can feel all of it. At this point the doctor and head of the anesthesiology dept are almost fighting about what to do. The anesthesiologist says we need to wait, the doctor says "we cannot wait" -- all super comforting when you're strapped to a table about to have major surgery, shivering to your core (so. cold.) and have no idea what is about to happen. 

They finally get me numb (enough -- I could feel tinges every now and then in addition to the overall terrible and uncomfortable pressure) and begin work. This is all a blur again because I'm on a lottttt of drugs at this point, barely hanging on to keep my eyes open but once they started cutting they realized Harrison was more stuck than they had originally thought, so they had to cut my uterus both ways, and then suction him out by his little butt.

At birth, he was unresponsive. I looked at Nick and I honestly have never felt the pain and heartache of that moment. I saw them put him on the table to work on him and his leg just flopped down. I will never forget that moment as long as I live. Even writing this now I am crying because it was just the absolute worst moment of our entire life. A swarm of NICU doctors were there in the waiting and began working on him and finally got him to take his first breath and we heard him scream out and cry and Nick and I were both so, I don't even know the word for it -- relieved I guess but to such a degree I can't explain. It is now 1:09AM on Friday. At this point they up my dosage drastically and apparently we name our sweet boy Harrison and Nick was able to hold him and show him to me before they rushed Harrison to the NICU. They then try to rush Nick out and something again is off. We do not know it at this time but my section was really bad. I am convinced I am going to die, and every single episode of Greys Anatomy flashes before my eyes. I beg them to let Nick stay but they won't allow it. Nick assures me he will be right outside for when they finish and I will be fine. I thank god for Nick. For the next 3 1/2 hours* they work on sewing me up. *For reference, a normal, average c-section takes a TOTAL of 1 - 2 hours. I am in the weirdest daze of being in the inbetween of awake and asleep and everything is kaleidoscopes and all I can remember is coming to every now and then and crying and asking how much longer it's going to be. They kept saying "About an hour". It was years. Finally I'm all sewn up, it's now 4am. As they move me from the OR table to the bed, I look (dumb move, Mae) and I have never seen that much blood even in a war movie. It was EVERYWHERE. Like, on the ceilings. Everywhere. I was like "What the HELL happened in here..."

They roll me back to the laboring room where Nick has been waiting, with no updates, no wife, and no baby for the past HOURS. We hug and kiss and cry and are both so drained we don't even know where to begin, but we want to see our baby for starters. They say he is stable and we can go see him on our way to the room. They take us up to the NICU and I am able to do some skin on skin in the quietness and peacefulness of the NICU and somehow everything is ok. He is beyond perfect. He is ours. He is ok. I am ok. We made it through.

On Friday, when I wake up after the birth I feel like I got hit by a truck. Like, I felt REALLY bad. I thought it was normal and just kept doing the best I could but i couldn't help but notice the other new moms, many of which had c-sections were up and about, I mean slowly about but still -- and I could barely lift my head off my pillow. One of the doctors from L&D comes down to check in on me and after checking my counts mentions a blood transfusion might be something we need to think about. I'm like woah woah let's not get crazy here. I'm fine. I just had a c-section it happens all the time. A blood transfusion seems a bit much. So we decide to wait a bit and see how my vitals trend. I am tasked with getting up out of bed for the first time to go to the bathroom, and I can't make it. I get wheeled in, and pass out on the floor of the bathroom. When I come to, there are about 10 nurses and 1 scared Nick, who had just returned from visiting Harry in the NICU upstairs. The next day, the doctors don't take no for an answer, and I am given a double blood transfusion because I lost so much blood during the surgery. A NICU nurse later tells me in passing "So happy to see you're doing well, I was in your delivery. and I've seen a LOT of sections, but yours.. wow.. it was one of the roughest ones I've seen.." Thank you? What do you say to that? Maybe keep your thoughts to yourself next time on that one.

That day and the following 2 days, Nick and I are in the NICU almost constantly -- I try not to miss any breastfeeding time, besides his first couple since I was in the OR still, or during my transfusion. It is exhausting, but something that was so important to me. Our calm time together during an insane delivery and postpartum experience.

Harrison is finally released from the NICU on Sunday afternoon. Our little family reunites and I have never felt more at peace. My two boys. Our little family. While it was a journey, and I would prefer to not have that experience again, it was Harrison's story and has made us all so grateful for what we have and that we were strong enough to overcome it.