29 Weeks and Memories

It’s official! At this same time in my pregnancy with James, he was born and hospitalized.  During this week with him during my hospitalization, I was given my glucose 1 hour and 3 hour tests (a lot of blood drawn);  a Rhogam shot it turns out I didn’t need because Matt’s an RH -, too; terbutalin shots every three hours; heprin (sp?) shots every morning to prevent blood clots; a mixture of steroids and antibiotics for his sake; and, finally, an IV of magnesium sulfate, from the time I convinced them that I was really in labor (6 hours after I’d tracked the contractions to 3-5 minutes apart) to until after I delivered Jamie. 

While on the magnesium, you can’t think clearly.  Your body feels like it is filling with lava and every sensation is heightened.  What should have been gradual, manageable contractions were turned into surprise shocks of pain and clenching; the nurses assumed that something was wrong with my monitor, since each contraction looked like a very jagged arrowhead rather than a gradual rise and drop.  They told me that I had no pain tolerance and that asking for something for the pain during  a preterm delivery meant that I wasn’t keeping my baby’s interest in mind over my own (I had been checked in dilated, so an epidural was out, although I didn’t know that; the only other option was IV pain killer).  I was alone and very tired.  When one nurse final took pity on my screaming (3 a.m., and I’d been in labor since 1 p.m. the previous afternoon), she gave me a quick IV, monitored James, and let me sleep for an hour before cutting the IV.  The next nurse to come in again told me that I just couldn’t handle pain and needed to stop crying and screaming before I disturbed the other patients. 

At the time, the nurses weren’t allowed to check preterm mothers without a doctor present.  When one finally did a check at 7 a.m., thinking it might be time to call the doctor, they discovered that Jamie had already been crowning for some time.  Mind, my water wasn’t broken.  He was too light.  They kept telling me not to push, that I needed to consider my baby and stop being selfish, and that the doctor wasn’t due to arrive until the afternoon.  My water broke between 12:30 and 1 p.m.  At 1 p.m. my doctor arrived from being on call at another hospital.  She prepped me to push.  Three pushes later, at 1:16 p.m., James was born.  They cleaned him, wrapped him up, let me kiss his face, and bundled him off to the NICU (a new blog in and of itself about which I’m not yet ready to write).  Afterwards, they cut the magnesium and I apologized to the doctor and nurses for making them uncomfortable with my screaming.  The doctor stitched my second degree tears, surprised when I told her she didn’t need to worry about a local and that I have a high pain tolerance.  The L & D nurses ostracized me for the 24 hours I remained in the hospital.

Since that time, most hospitals have stopped using magnesium to treat preterm labor and have restricted its use to cases of preeclampsia.  They’ve discovered side-effects when it is used in mothers without high-blood pressure and little-to-no effect on preterm labor.  I have also switched to a high-risk ward through a much nicer hospital.

During THIS week of my current pregnancy, I have played word games with my son, watched movies with my husband, edited papers for friends and got a little more research done for my future dissertation.  I have had regular contractions.  My current doctors do not believe in overmedication and favor a more holistic approach (even to high-risk pregnancies), which I completely support.  I’m taking a very light dosage of procardia round the clock, and it seems to help.  I’m continuing my bedrest.  Even though I know I’m still not going to get the midwife-monitored water birth I wanted with James, I’m confident that things will go much more smoothly.  If I end up in the hospital on medication, I will not be shocked, but so far the Lord is blessing me greatly during this pregnancy.

The outcome for both is the same: I am blessed.  Yes, I had a struggle during James’ pregnancy/delivery, but I am incredibly blessed to be his mom.  This week he has made huge verbal leaps and is talking or singing non-stop (he’s very musical).  He’s my love bug and my encouragement, even at 2 1/2 years old (you moms of two-year-olds understand this comment).  I can’t wait to see how things will go with Lia.  Yes, we’ll probably have a NICU stay, and with that comes the potential for a lot of trials or tragedy, but my children were and are both in God’s hands.  Even if I never get to bring Lia home, I’ve been blessed to be her mom, too.  (The outcome at this point is not that grim, but I’ve learned to think in terms of worst case scenario and be pleasantly surprised when things are better. :))

Sorry this is so long and contains so much venting.  The real conclusion?

Psalm 63:4-6 —  “I will praise You as long as I live, and in Your name I will lift up my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise You. On my bed I remember You; I think of You through the watches of the night” (NIV).