The Day She was Born

The first half of that day had been somewhat normal.  Well, the 'normal-while-I'm-in-the-hospital' kind of normal.  Drop-ins from the nurses, Elliana's heartbeat in the background, visiting with friends.  All was well.  I had finally resigned myself to being in the hospital until 34 weeks, which was only 2 weeks and 2 days away.  I wasn't excited about it, but I knew it was necessary.  And I was OK with it.

I hadn't slept well the night before.  I'd been awake for at least a couple hours.  I remember giving up on trying to go back to sleep and just watching the last couple episodes of Downton Abbey, Season 1.  So after a morning full of visitors, nurses, and vitals, I think I fell asleep.  Around lunchtime - I fell asleep for a little while.

The day before (Thursday, October 4) one of my new friends (my favorite ultrasound tech, 'A'), came up to ask me when I'd like to have my ultrasound on Friday.  She gave me two options - first thing in the morning with some other tech, or 2:00 in the afternoon with her and the leftovers from their Breast Cancer Awareness bake sale.  It was kind of a no-brainer.  I picked 2:00 with her and the goodies.  :-)

Shortly before 2 on Friday, my nurse came and unplugged me from the monitors, put me in a wheelchair, and wheeled me to what would be my final ultrasound.  Had I known what would happen later in the day, I would have asked my morning visitors to stay and watch Elliana's last 'dance recital' - a phrase coined by my dad.

The ultrasound showed increased amniotic fluid - she had quite the swimming pool in there.  A friend came during the ultrasound, and she ooh'ed and aah'ed over my little girl, making me quite the proud mama.  When the doctor came in, I asked her one of my most difficult questions - would she please help me be able to picture what her lip was going to look like?  I didn't want to be shocked when I saw her for the first time.  The doctor explained as best she could.

My friend had brought chips, salsa and cheese dip to share with me.  Once back in my room, I asked my nurse if I could be free from the chains of the monitors for just a little longer so I could enjoy my chips from the couch instead of the bed.  She agreed. 

Now I wonder if... well, there are so many 'maybe I should have's.' 

The nurse finally 'nudged' me back into bed and hooked me up to the monitors.  I remember hearing Elliana's heartbeat in the background.  I can't remember at what point my friend left, but I do remember that once things got scary, I was alone.  I think it was around 4:30.  I remember the nurses coming in with their all-business faces on and studying the screen carefully.  I remember them telling me to roll over to one side to see if that made Elliana happier. 

After her heart rate dropped 4 or 5 times within a 45-minute period, they called the doctor.  The doctor came rather quickly (which, in itself, was scary), and started talking about how we may need to go ahead and deliver her.  I remember her saying that there was really not much they could do for her while she was still 'in', but there was a lot they could do for her once she was 'out'.  And if she was struggling, she would be better off being delivered. 

By that point, I was an absolute mess.  The nurses made phone calls for me - I was afraid if I tried to talk to Jason on the phone, I would cry through the entire conversation and really freak him out.  But I might as well have called him - he was so panicked when he arrived, afraid they were taking me to surgery at that very moment and that he was going to miss her birth. 

But things had calmed down by the time he and my mom arrived.  Elliana's heart rate had been steady for a good while - probably an hour.  I began to think... Things might be ok now.  Maybe we just had a little scare.  She's going to be fine.

Jeremy and Gina came by.  Beth came with her camera, since we'd had the scare a little earlier.  We spent the next couple of hours together, watching the monitor and trying to distract each other with conversation.  I think Jeremy and Gina left for a little while - they were celebrating their anniversary.  The nursing shift changed, and I was NOT happy about that.  My two favorite nurse/friends were going to be off for the weekend, and I didn't know the nurse who was taking over. 

Alarm bells went off sort of subconsciously in my head when my nurse/friend handed the baton to the night shift nurse and said to me, 'You are her only patient tonight.  Her only job tonight is watching you and the baby.'  That brought me comfort.  But it scared the hell out of me, too.

I can't remember exact times, and as vivid as so many of my memories are, I'm afraid that I remember things wrong.  But as best I recall...

At about 9 or 9:30, these were the people in my room:  Jason, my mom, Jeremy & Gina, and Beth.  The night-shift nurse had been in a couple times to check on me and Elliana.  But the last time I remember her walking into the room, she *walked* into the room.  She went straight for the oxygen mask above my head, tore the plastic off, and put it on my face.  She said Elliana's heart rate had dipped and stayed down for about 90 seconds.

They paged the on-call doctor.  The on-call doctor came and talked with us about going ahead with a delivery.  Elliana was in distress, and she needed help.

I wasn't ready.  I. Was. Not. Ready.  Yes, we'd known for months that she probably wouldn't survive.  Yes, I'd spent hours in front of an ultrasound screen looking at a 'broken' baby, hearing the same 'poor prognosis' over and over again.  But I wasn't ready.  I wasn't ready for her to come that night.

I remember saying a temporary goodbye to my mom, Beth, Jeremy, and Gina.  I knew I'd see them after my surgery - and I hoped it would be under very hopeful circumstances - with a baby in the NICU.

I remember the nurses wheeling my bed down the hall.  I remember going down the Labor & Delivery hallway, hearing another mom in labor.

I remember the big double doors swinging open.  It was quiet.  It was late on a Friday night, so there weren't many people around.  I remember Jason not being with me.  He was getting 'gowned up'.  I remember seeing compassionate looks on everyone's faces.

I remember being wheeled into the OR.  I *think* it was the same OR that Seth had been delivered in.  :-)

I remember the anesthesiologist talking to me.  She was so friendly.  So kind.  So reassuring.

I remember the flurry of activity.  The movement around the room.

I remember the anesthesiologist telling me about the drugs she was going to give me.  I remember telling her that I wanted to be completely alert the entire time.  I remember telling her that I didn't want her to give me anything that would make me drowsy.

I *don't* remember the spinal.  Or maybe I remember bits and pieces.  It's strange.

I remember Jason coming into the room in his cap and gown.  I remember him sitting beside me.  Close to my head.

I remember the drape in front of me - I couldn't see my tummy anymore.

I remember the doctor coming in.  And one of the nurse-midwives who was there to assist.  I remember the doctor doing lots of 'testing' on my tummy.  Poking in different places, asking if I could feel pain or pressure.  I remember it taking a while before I didn't feel pain anymore.

I remember shivering.  I couldn't stop.  I think I remember that it had to do with the anesthesia.  I couldn't stop shivering.  And I really wanted to stop shivering.

I remember the doctor starting the surgery.  I could feel a lot.  A whole lot more than I had during my 2 previous c-sections.  I didn't feel pain, but I felt a lot.  I'm not sure if that was because I'd asked for 'less' drugs, or if it was just this particular experience.  Or maybe I was just more acutely aware.  I don't know.

I remember the moment she was born.  10:56pm on October 5, 2012.  I remember the anesthesiologist telling me (rather excitedly) that she had SO MUCH blond hair.

I remember Jason saying something like, 'Did you hear that?  I heard her cry.'

I remember that I didn't hear her cry.

I remember Jason walking over to where she was.  He didn't stay there long.  I think the doctor asked him to step away for a little while so they could work on her.

I remember Jason coming back over to where I was and showing me a picture that he had taken of her. That picture of her - that one - is the only memory I have of her looking strong.

I remember waiting.  And waiting.

And then, I remember the NICU doctor coming over to us and telling us what she'd tried.  And how it wasn't working.

I remember asking her to please try one more time.  I remember starting to panic.  I remember crying.  I remember praying.

And then, I remember a brief moment of relief - when the doctor told us that she'd been able to intubate Elliana.  But the relief only lasted a second.  I remember the doctor telling us that even after getting the tube down, Elliana's heart rate kept dropping.

I remember her saying that she felt like she'd done everything she could.  She said that the next step would be CPR, and she really believed that Elliana's suffering would only be prolonged if she continued her efforts.

I remember crying and nodding my head to indicate that it was ok for the doctor to cease her efforts to revive Elliana.

I remember the doctor asking us if we'd like to hold Elliana.

I remember Jason bringing her over to me.  Seeing her face for the first time.  Seeing all of her beautiful hair.  I fell more deeply in love with her.

I remember them unwrapping her and laying her, skin to skin, on my chest.  It wasn't until a couple of days later that a nurse told me this:  as soon as they laid her down on me, she pinked up.

But I couldn't see her.  I wanted to see her.  So I tried to move her so that she was more on my shoulder.  And now I wonder... I hate wondering... should I have let her stay on my chest longer?  Would she have been warmer for longer?

I remember hearing her try to take a breath.

I am so thankful to have heard her take a few breaths.

And I am so thankful that I got to kiss that sweet little head, and feel her hair under my fingers, and gaze upon her little face - 'broken' lip and all.