Birth #1, Teen pregnancy, My Welcome to Motherhood.

I was l8 years old, living in a 3 bedroom apartment with another couple and a friend.  I had been at work that day, it was about 120 degrees inside the warehouse and I felt sick to my stomach.  I couldn't finish my lunch and my cigarettes didn't taste so good.  I tossed it all and went home.  I called my sister and told her about my day and that I had left work early.  She laughed at me and said "maybe you are pregnant".  I dismissed it...saying "My stomach doesn't hurt like that."

The pregnancy test revealed otherwise.  I saw the little "+" sign and I backed against the bathroom wall, slumping down to the floor.  I cried.  I'd only been living with my boyfriend about 6 months at that point and our relationship was more than rocky.  I, honestly, didn't know what to do.

I called him into the room.  He didn't know what "X" meant.  I turned the pregnancy test and told him.."it's a plus sign".  It's positive.

I never picked up another cigarrette.  At least I had that much sense.

I called my mom.  I asked her if she was sitting.  Immediately she asked if I was pregnant.

I didn't know the first thing about being pregnant, so I called one of those pregnancy crisis centers.  They really didn't give me much direction except that I should keep my baby.  I had already decided that.

Somehow I ended up seeing the midwife group out of Harris Methodist Fort Worth.  Nancy Reedy, CNM would care for me during my pregnancy.  I turned 19 and had a birthday party at chuck-e-cheese.

I would walk to 7-Eleven every day and get one of those humongous Dr. Peppers.  I liked Cheetos a lot too.  I slept ALL day...every day.  I had to quit my job because it was just too hot inside the warehouse to continue.

Pregnancy seemed to last forever...I had terrible morning sickness and would throw up at least twice a day for the first 3 months.  I remember having some beef fried rice once and never wanted to eat it again.  I would watch reruns of "I Love Lucy" every night.

We moved into our first apartment.  A very small one bedroom in Arlington, at a very busy intersection.  My boyfriend was terrified to be soley resposible for paying rent.

We took Lamaze classes through the hospital....and surprisingly, they were very natural childbirth friendly.  We had a wonderful Lamaze teacher who had her own natural births and had actually been reprimanded by the hospital for crossing the line in her classes several times.  THANK YOU Joyce Eckstien!!!  Her class was the first time I had ever heard about a "doula".

I thought...of course I can have a natural birth.  My mom did, with all seven of us.  I'm much tougher than her.  My boyfriend and I got married at the justice of the peace in my 34th week of pregnancy.

I sat on the couch one day of my 37th week and realized it had been quite a long time since I'd felt the baby move.  I went and grabbed my Lamaze book and flipped through the pages.  I found the 'kick count' page.  It said "if your baby moves less than ten times in 4 hours call your provider immediately".   Hmmm.  I pondered this for a moment.  Ok.  I'll start counting.  A couple of hours passed and I had not felt anything.  I began to worry.  I waited.  and waited.  and waited.  3 hours had passed since I started really paying attention and she hadn't moved AT ALL.  nothing.

I decided to go ahead and call our insurance "nurse hotline".  I guess it's set up to keep you from going to the hospital, unless you really need to.  The nurse was nice enough but when I told her what was going on, I could hear her flipping through her book.  She told me "the baby will move less the bigger she gets."....Me "yes, but this book says this."  We went back and forth for some time.  She really wanted me to just accept that the baby was just 'sleeping'.  I knew in my gut it was more than that and persisted.  Finally, she said to call my 'doctor'.

I called the office and got the answering service.  It was about 9 pm.  They took my info and Nancy called me back.  She said to go in and I'd be on the monitors for 20 minutes and I would go home and be fine.

I packed a bag and arrived about 10 pm.  I was on the monitors 20 minutes.  That turned into an hour.  The nurses gave me fruit and had me walk the halls.  I was on the monitors some more.  They gave me a sprite.  I was on the monitors some more.  They called in a super-duper sonographer at about midnight/1am.  He got there a couple of hours later.  He pressed the doppler against my belly, trying to get a response from my baby.  He pressed harder, and shook it around....he moved it everywhere...her arms, legs, head.  She just wouldn't move.  He measured her and said she weighed about 6 1/2 pounds.

I guess that whatever he told my midwife was not good b/c at about 4:45 am I was met by a small group of staff with admission papers and needles.  I was informed that my baby was coming now.  I expressed that I had wanted a natural birth.  There was whispering and nodding and an IV was started with some pitocin.  I hated needles.  I was terrified of needles and my midwife held my hand while the blood was drawn and the IV started.  I was touched that she cared enough to sit with me.

The pitocin was only on about 5 minutes.  I felt...maybe, 2 contractions.  Didn't feel like much of anything.  My midwife promptly came in and said that the baby was not handling even those contractions well and would need to come by c/section.

I was helpless.  I was scared.  Just a few hours earlier, I thought I'd be going back home...and now, my baby was about to be born.

I walked back to the OR.  I sat on the table freezing...my gown slipped down my arms while I struggled to hold myself in a "C" position to place the spinal anesthesia.  I was embarassed that I was sitting there nearly naked in front of all those people.  They swarmed around me.  I laid down on the table.  My arms were strapped down out to my sides.  I had an oxygen mask on and my eyes welled up.  Tears started streaming down my face but I couldn't wipe them.  I couldn't get any air through the mask and started to shake my head.  A nurse lifted my mask and told me to breath slow...I did and it helped.  My husband came in and sat by my head.  They pinched my tummy and upper body and asked if I could feel it.  I could feel it.  I could feel everything...except pain.  I remember the OB's first name was Mary.  She told me that I'd be able to wear a bikini after the surgery because the incision would be very low.  I was puzzled.  I felt the primary incision...I felt my skin pull open and the tugging and pressure.  I felt when she left my body and could hear the suctioning of blood and fluid.

I remember hearing her gurgling cry.  Her sweet, tiny cry.  It took a minute, but it was there.  They flashed her to me before taking her away.  She weighed 5 lbs 6 oz.  I cried some more.  I was sewn up and went to recovery.  I was SO tired.  My body was shaking uncontrollably and I just wanted to sleep.  I stayed in recovery for 2 hours and on the way to my room (on a stretcher) they walked me by the NICU and I got to touch her with one gloved hand.

I was set up with a morphine pump.  I didn't think I'd need it...until the spinal wore off and I started having afterbirth pains.  I hit that button as fast as I could.  The incision, on top of the cramping, and the nurse massaging my uterus was more than I could handle.  After the morphine pump, I got percocet.  I couldn't understand why I kept itching so bad.  I wanted to scratch my skin off.  It was years later I realized that the meds had caused it.  I was going crazy between the medicine and the postpartum sweating.

They kept telling me that they were watching her and they would bring her to me.  The clock kept ticking and I still didn't have her.  I had wanted to breastfeed.  I heard other babies crying.  The hours passed.  The nurse came in and told me that it was time for me to walk and go to the bathroom.  Standing for the first time, was so much more painful than I would have imagined.  It felt exaclty as if I'd been cut in half.

As soon as I could I got in a wheelchair and went down the hall to visit my baby.  The first time I held her I fell in love.  She was so tiny and so fragile.  She was hooked up to an IV and all kinds of wires.  Her tiny arm was taped to a pink IV board.  I remember standing up and I had orange colostrum stains all over my nightgown.

The next day, the LC came in and gave me a breastpump.  I started pumping like crazy.  My husband held the pump while I massaged my breasts.  A got about a teaspoon of colostrum the first time I pumped and the amount increased each time.  I was so excited to bring my milk to the NICU to give to my baby.  I was horrified when I handed the nurse my hard work and she poured about 2 ounces of formula into it to fill it up.

I went back and pumped some more...and that never happened again.  I did walk down with my MIL and one of the nurses handed her a bottle and asked her to feed MY baby.  MY baby, whom I had never fed.

I spent three days listening to other babies cry in rooms next to me.  I felt empty.  My body didn't know what to do.  There was a baby, then there wasn't a baby.  There was no warning or signal to my body that my baby would no longer be there.  Emotionally and physically I was lost.  I was released from the hospital without her.

On the fifth day, I got to "room in" with her before her release.  They taught me how to bathe her.  My milk came in that night and was literally dripping out of me.  I was SO engorged, my breasts felt like rocks.  She would not nurse.  She had recieved bottles for 5 days and did not like what I had to offer.  Thankfully, she nursed with a nipple shield....after finally weaning her off the shield at 6 weeks, she nursed happily until 12 months.

She really was not sick again for years.  I love her so very much and even though she's 14 now, she is like she was at birth.  Determined, and a very hard worker, but she struggles.  She is sensitive and sweet...and very private.  Her birth story makes me sad because she deserved so much better.  I can still see scars on her heels where she was stuck several times a day.  I wish that communication with hospital staff had been better.

Physically, this was my easiest birth.  I still don't know exactly what was wrong.  She had a very small cord, possibly a 2 vessel cord.  She was low birth weight...the sonographer was more than a pound off because she 'should' have been bigger.  She was hypoglycemic and she had a lot of trouble regulating her temperature.  She had a nuchal cord.  I do think that whatever was wrong would have gotten worse, and I am glad that intervention was there.  This birth was the start for me.  The start of so many things.  Thank you my sweet baby girl for teaching me so much about me....for letting me learn through you.  I love you and will do anything for you.  Thank you for teaching me how to accept things and march forward.  Thank you for teaching me to dig deeper.  I now realize that if I had not stood in that place with my first baby, I would not be standing in this place with my fourth.  This journey was hard and it left me numb for a long time, but I am thankful for it.  Without it, I would not be who I am.