Dylan Alexander Fry
A 3 week hiatus after my last entry was probably a bit dramatic, no? Rather than drone on about new motherhood and nursing troubles and baby blues, I would rather focus on telling Baby Dylan’s birth story before mom-nesia (or whatever it is called) removes it from my memory completely.
The day started out with me on the couch for what would be my last day of bed rest. My ultrasound appointment was at 1:30 to recheck my amniotic fluid levels, so, on the off-chance that I would be going to the hospital that day and not allowed to eat, I ate a large lunch of leftover meatballs in cream sauce and corn (foreshadowing: this was a terrible plan).
I was sure that the gallon+ of water I had been drinking daily would maintain my fluid after the IV from the week prior or, at most, it would have dropped by maybe a centimeter, which would still keep me out of the hospital. Someone else had other plans. Fluid was down all the way to 4 cm (for the record, 5 cm is critical, I was at 6 cm when I got the IV, & I left the hospital at 9.5 cm). That meant that the baby needed to be delivered ASAP to avoid compression of the umbilical cord. I figured that would mean a Friday morning delivery (see: monstrous lunch). A call to my OB and, instead, I was scheduled for a C-section that evening.
Hubby was in another county at his new internship. I told him not to rush up thinking that the surgery would be at 7 or 8 pm that night and he got out at 4 (notice the trend – I think one thing, something else happens…). Thank goodness he didn’t listen to me since, when I got to the hospital, my OB said that everything was set for a 5pm delivery. Of course, since it was a “scheduled” cesarean, they would wait for him, but my nerves were shot already, and waiting any longer than I had to for him might have killed me.
After my OB let me have a good, long cry to mourn, basically, the exact type of birth I DIDN’T want (an early scheduled c-section), I was sent to the exam room to get prepped and wait for the OR to be ready for me (there was one cesarean ahead of me). I changed into my hospital gown and was hooked up to the annoying ass fetal monitors for the last time (and I remembered my elastic straps for them for every hospital visit to avoid getting charged as the nurse told me the first time – I like to think I impressed everyone with that). After an eternity, David showed up to relieve my mom.
What was supposed to be a 5pm operation got pushed back due to the c-section before mine taking longer than expected. The nurse was waiting on the okay to give me all the medicines that were required before I got cut open (most of which were due to me eating lunch that day since generally you want to operate on someone with an empty stomach). The wait in the exam room took forever, and the bed was ridiculously uncomfortable. At some point, I started having contractions. David and I joked that it would be hilarious if, after all that, I went into labor waiting for the OR to open up. Finally, I was told that I could walk to the OR (really? they couldn’t be bothered to wheel me to the operating table???). Of course, gravity took over when I stood up, and I decided that I should probably get one last pee in before I get cut open. This was not the best plan since I was hooked up to an IV that wasn’t on a pole. Seriously, the accommodations at this hospital were severely lacking.
Once I got to the OR, the panic began to set in. The room was small, but overwhelming. The operating table was too high up for me to sit on normally, so they had to get me a step. That still wasn’t enough, so I had to hoist myself up under my own power. Then, the fun part came – the spinal. I would rather go through an unmedicated vaginal birth than have a spinal put in again. Each jab was insanely painful – and there were about 10 to 15 of them at least. After what seemed like eons of needles getting shoved in my spine, I was finally allowed to lay down on the table and the curtain went up. I didn’t see much after that; all I was waiting on was for David to get in the room. I knew everything would be okay once he was there. Once he arrived, he was about to be his charming, joking self, but the doctor had to tell him to be quiet since they had started recording. David mouthing “I love you” is one of the only clear memories left I have of that day.
Then, the fun began. While I couldn’t feel any “pain” persay, I felt everything that was going on behind that curtain. There was so much tugging and pulling and pressure. David said that it looked like an earthquake with all the movement. I even could tell the moment they pulled the baby out – there was some extra pressure, then a big release. Before I heard him cry, I knew he was born. Suddenly, the curtain fell a bit and my doctor held Dylan up over it to show us. She was waiting for us to take a picture, but David could see me cut open and just wanted them to sew me back up. I insisted that he take a picture of our new son or I would never forgive him. As David says, “that was no place for a baby!”
They took the baby over to the table to clean him. After insisting that he didn’t want to before the baby was born, David finally agreed to cut the umbilical cord. I guess after seeing my surgery, cutting an unnecessary organ wasn’t such a big deal. The most amazing part was that he was crying right until David started talking – then he stopped. He already knew his voice. Once Dylan was cleaned and swaddled, they brought him over to me. I had no idea what to do with him. I think someone finally told me to give him a kiss. It was too surreal. I was just laying on a table, and now I had a baby. I asked them if I could try to breastfeed him before they took him away. A nurse grabbed my boob and stuck it in his mouth, but he didn’t take. They took him away to have a bath while I finished getting repaired.
Once I was done getting sewn up, I was supposed to be taken to a recovery room, but ended up in maternity triage instead, which was much noisier and less private. I was held there for 2 hours without Dylan while I tried (unsuccessfully) to keep down my lunch and get some rest before being brought to my room. Someone left the Heat game on, and I felt the need to tell everyone that I didn’t choose for it to be on the TV – it was already on when I arrived. Finally, David and my parents took turns visiting me and giving me updates on the baby. He absolutely hated his bath and fought with the nurse the whole time (an indicator of his current state). He also got 9s on both APGARs thanks to his strength and penchant for screaming. I, meanwhile, focused so hard on attempting to move my toes that I made myself sick.
After 2 hours, the nursed wheeled me to my room. All of my family was in there with the baby waiting for me. It didn’t last long, though, since I needed to try and nurse him again, so everyone left. I don’t remember the rest of that day very well. I remember Dylan fussing that night while David and I tried to sleep. Every time he heard one of our voices, he would stop, though, so we spent most of the night shushing or saying his name to keep him calm.
I will try to remember the rest later & hopefully include more pictures – it’s hard getting an entry written and taking care of Dylan by myself at home (I started this entry almost a week ago).