T had an intestinal bug last week that was manifesting in yucky loose stools and diarrhea (sorry for the info but it does play a role in the story!). I got it right after he had it and spent much of Thursday and Friday on the couch. On Saturday I went to my chiropractor in the morning and came home to nasty diarrhea... and contractions. Since they kept hanging around I put 2+2 together and called my midwife to ask whether it was possible that being sick could send me into labor a la taking castor oil. She said that it wasn't ideal (well, duh) but possible. I called my doula to let her know. She told me to go nap. I tried but wasn't really successful. T went to my mom's that evening and my doula came over. Things continued to intensify. My doula encouraged me to sleep and I tried but it's hard to wake up to contractions; you're already into one and can't prepare yourself for it. Nibbled toast, oatmeal, drank lots of water and gatorade... next day they were coming along fairly regularly, I was walking in circles around the downstairs, had to stop and get through each one. I eventually said that we had to leave because I was dreading the car ride and just wanted it over with. Had 5 ctx on the way to the hospital. Got there around 12:30ish I guess, was 100% effaced and dilated to 3, bulging waters. Kept on laboring, dilation stalled out. I let her break my membranes around ... oh, 7 or so? - I don't remember - the ctx got so amazingly intense then. (Remember I have been in labor now for about 29 hours.) At 33 hours I had dilated to 6 but the contractions were so painful that I was having trouble getting through them, so I made the decision to have an epidural. My body was going on very little fuel (although well hydrated) and very little rest. I responded to an epidural the same way that I did last time - my bp sank to the 80s over 30s - which caused baby distress, but they caught it. The plan then was to try to get me to dilate fully with a low dose of pitocin - the contractions by themselves were not strong enough anymore to make my cervix do anything - but baby also did not tolerate the pit well, so she turned it off and said we could try again in 1/2 an hour, to which my gut said no, bad idea. So I told her that we just had to do this surgically, because I was having a very bad feeling about the pit and the baby and I wasn't toying with it anymore.
Because I made this decision myself, for the safety of my child and after having given myself an amazing chance to do it myself (35 hours? you think that was long enough?), it does not hurt emotionally. I do not feel like I have been robbed of anything. It is a very different feeling than my last surgical birth. My midwife was wonderful and respectful, my nurse was fantastic, my doula deserves a very special place in heaven, my partner was not freaked out. Even in the OR I was treated very respectfully, covered with warm blankets, had my hands unstrapped when I asked, and Jo and baby were allowed to come sit right by my head after he was born and stayed for at least 20 minutes. I truly believe that because of this, I never had the chattering teeth that I had with T that lasted through surgery until he was put into my arms about an hour later. Jo and E just sat next to me, I gazed at him, he looked around, very calm and mellow. His apgars were better than T's, 7 and 8.
He lost his points on his apgar due to body tone, one of the characteristics of babies with Trisomy 21, or Down Syndrome, which surprised us all. Our chromosome test was confirmed today, but by now, none of us were expecting any other diagnosis. He most certainly has Down Syndrome. We have been spared an incredible concern in that he does not have any heart defects that are typical for up to half of babies born with DS, and does not at this moment have any great health concerns. Indeed, right now all we have to do, the ped said, is make sure he's eating and excreting. The eating is a hard one; he is very interested in breastfeeding but he has a poor latch, very weak suction and a major tongue thrust, and of course there's me and my abysmal milk supply... a poor set-up for successful breastfeeding but you know what? can you believe this?: I'm over it. I'm so over it. I know that breast milk is good for him and nursing would be good for strengthening his mouth and helping him organize his suck and swallow, but if I have to feed my baby with a bottle, formula and as much as I can pump, so be it. My neighbor who just had a baby is also pumping for me, a couple of ounces every day, and it is just fantastic. I am not going to stress out over it. I have bigger fish to fry.
The emotional ramifications of the whole thing are mind-boggling. At times I am full of awe and honored that he/his angel/God chose us to parent him, and at other times - when I am tired, especially - I am bitter and angry. I am not bitter and angry at him - who could be bitter at a kid who's 7 pounds of pure snuggle power, with a head full of ash-blonde hair? - just at the universe for giving me this challenge when it would seem that it would have been just as easy to grant me an ordinary child with the correct number of chromosomes. But who am I to try to understand the workings of the angels?
One day at a time.
11/24/08 1:30 AM
7 pounds 4 ounces
19.75" long
long hair, blue eyes, 10 fingers, 10 toes, and an extra chromosome.
