Brody's Birth Story Part 3

Read part 1 & part 2 first.

Soon after our first few wonderful hours together, Brody was off to the nursery to get examined, poked, measured and watched by daddy, who was standing with a camera in hand eyeing Brody and his nurse's every move; he wasn't going to leave his side any time soon.

Meanwhile back in L&D, I was getting the treatment--getting cleaned up via sponge-bath which made me feel much better despite still experiencing the migraine.  Before I realized it, it was midnight and I was beyond delirious.

I had a new visitor--my dear friend Cami. She arrived just after her shift ended at work--Dodie's Greenville--, and bumped into Klay at the nursery.

"Brody's so cute," she said as she sat down and asked how I felt. The light was dim in the room to help ease with the sensitivity to light from the gruesome headache. Honestly, I don't really remember much of our conversation because I was so exhausted and OUT OF IT. I remember talking, though it could have been about politics, baby Jesus, who knows?



After Cami left, my nurses prepped me to move to a room upstairs. Lauren and Brandy, my two nurses of the day, were truly spectacular. I'd gotten so attached to them I was crazy sad to move upstairs. I felt like they were sending me off into the wilderness to fend for myself. It was almost as if they were my parents sending me to live in a new home with a new family. At least that's how I felt. They guided me through the most incredible, scary, up and down rollercoaster ride of my life and I didn't want to let them go. Through my labor I discovered one was from Forney and even got her contact info to meet up. I was attached.

But it was time for me to take my leap, start walking on my own and for them to let go of me, wave goodbye and let me  figure this thing out called motherhood. But I was so afraid that my next nurses wouldn't take as good of care of me as they did. But if they were so great, surely the hospital has more great nurses right? WRONG.

After our move to our newest digs, the nurses brought me my baby boy. I was so eager to hold him despite my exhaustion. I didn't mind feeding him, I was just happy he was with me; I didn't want him out of my sight.I looked back at Lauren as I lay on the portable hospital bed, grabbed her hand, and shifted my focus to Klay who was walked beside us.  Whisked me out of L&D, we were on the move, I closed my eyes opening them to only see glimpses of walls and florescent lights that skated above me.



While I was holding Brody once more, I felt my nausea resurface. Looking at the new night nurse in my room, I said "Get me something I'm about to get sick. I'm about to sick. Take him, take him." She just stood there looking at me like I was speaking a foreign language. Maybe I was? Thankfully, Klay stood up took Brody from me and handed me a hospital barf bag. Why they make those bags so small?!?

After getting sick again for the millionth time, I started to dose. Every three or so hours people would come check my BP. Then, my nurse came in and said my oxygen levels were low. Down in L&D, they'd put this thing on my finger which is supposed to monitor my oxygen levels. Well prior to delivery, Brandy (my L&D nurse) had trouble getting a good read on my finger. I'd gotten the shellac or gel nail polish (navy blue) and it wasn't reading through my nail. So, after trying it on my toe (which had gray polish), and that didn't work, they moved the monitor to my ear. When we got upstairs, they placed it back on my finger.

I told the new nurses this a thousand times, but they didn't listen, they continued to ignore me. I kept dosing off intermittently between nurses shuffling in and out of this tiny room.

Around 4 a.m., a specialist came in to check on me. I told him through the oxygen mask--feeling sort of Darth Vadarish--that'd I said 500 times to check it somewhere else but no one would listen. He simply took the clamp, opened it and turned it sideways so it was on my skin rather than the nail, and voila! it was normal. Thankfully that was the end of that.

We were eventually moved to a third room later that morning. Brody's tests were coming back normal with the exception of one--his jaundice test. With rising jaundice levels higher than normal,  we were going to keep good track of it, which meant more pokes and blood test on this heel of his foot.

Despite everything, he seemed to be taking to my breast well and everyone told me I was doing a great job breastfeeding. The lactation nurse even told me my milk was coming in. I was hopeful. I had this dream that I would be the mom that traveled everywhere with her kid in a baby bjorn, popping out the boobie when he got hungry like his very own milk vending machine. I was going to be the source of his food. It was my responsibility to be his one-stop shop for the goods. That was me, the milk-making mommy machine. I could see it.

What an idiot, I was...

Brody's Birth Story Part 1

This is the story of the birth of our sweet Brody, but before I start let me tell you about some of my medical history. I've had high blood pressure my entire life, even as a kid. Both parents have it and my grandparents (I think on both sides), so it figures I'd be the one of two Welch offspring who'd get the trait. My sis was blessed with the better traits--tiny bod, tiny nose, no migraines, no headaches everyday, no hypertension and she even got the skinny genes. I'd been diagnosed with high BP at a young age (though didn't start taking meds until 2009-ish).

I was the prime candidate for pre-eclampsia. Throughout my entire pregnancy, my doctor was concerned and warned me that'd I'd most likely develop it. I was even a participant for a pre-eclampsia study that the hospital was conducting at the time. They had to draw blood every time my BP was up. But I got $25 for each poke! Ayeee!

Fast-forward to 30 weeks: I was working and we were about to move into our remodeled house so my stress was high. My doctor put me on bedrest. "You will have this baby somewhere by 37-39 weeks," she said. "It's too risky for you to go full-term."

Not only did I have weekly appointments with my doctor, but now I had to go to a specialist  (located in the same building thankfully) to get weekly sonograms to check on Brody's progress, ensure everything was developed before delivery and that if I had pre-eclampsia it wasn't affecting him. I did receive a steroid shot to help his lungs mature faster (and ensure they were fully-developed).

36 WEEKS: Doc said, "We will have this baby next Wednesday."

37 WEEKS, Tuesday, Feb. 21: I'm supposed to spend the night at the hospital to get some pill-thing inserted in my cervix which is supposed to help soften my cervix to prepare it for labor and improve my chances for a smooth induction the next morning. My doctor said I couldn't eat past lunch, and I was supposed to be at the hospital til 8 p.m.

We took the dogs to mom's house and while I'm sitting on the couch chatting I start having contractions (though they were braxton hicks). Klay and mom watched my stomach contracting. "We should probably get going," Klay said.

Klay was hungry and went through Whataburger en route to the hospital. I'm in a pissy mood because I'm starving and can't eat while the smell of french fries wafts in the air. Seriously, dude?

When we get to the hospital and they hook me up to machines, the nurse starts looking at the papers coming out like receipts assessing them closely. "You're definitely having contractions alright. But they aren't consistent, so are more likely braxton hicks," she said.

I asked them if I could eat, and they said it was fine since I wasn't going into labor. I ate some hospital food. It was the best damn burger I've ever eaten or it tasted like it anyway. I was just so hungry.

They inserted the vagina pill and repeatedly interrupted the tiny amount of sleep I was getting in the middle of the night to take my BP.

5 A.M.--I start putting on makeup before they took me off to the delivery room. I wanted to have some make up on so I didn't scare my child once he got a glimpse of me. They came in and prepped me to head downstairs.

6:30 A.M.--I now have my own room in Labor & Delivery. It's big and spacious, and this is about to get real. I start to get nervous.

7:30 A.M.--Pitocin was administered and I start having contractions. OUCH. Some visitors (Klay's dad, Susan and Nanny come in to see me).

9 A.M.--I'm given magnesium. This is to prevent me from seizing if my BP starts to rise. Side effects, include: headache, fever symptoms, vomiting, and a catheter pre-epidural, which means I felt it, plus it slows down labor. I immediately have a headache (which later develops into a migraine) and once the catheter is inserted and the nurse leaves the room, I lose it.

"I can't do this. They have to find another way to get him out. Not a c-section and not vaginal, I can't do this. I can't, I can't." I'm sobbing hysterically to Klay. It was all so real, and the catheter was so uncomfortable. On top of all of that, I'm burning up, feeling nauseous and having contractions.

2 P.M.-- The doctor comes in checks my cervix. OH MY GOD. OUUUUUUUCH! "This will be the most painful check of the day," the doctor says. She wasn't lying. It was excruciating. I was dilated to a 2.

She breaks my water with some sort of rod, through the tiny space where my cervix was opening. POP! I hear like a flood coming out. Britney and Klay who are in the room don't even notice as they talk to the doctor hounding her with questions. Despite me wanting to press further without an epidural my doctor goes ahead and orders one.

"You're in pain?" she asks.

"Yes," I reply.

"Then, why not? It will make you feel a lot better, I promise. I'll order it. There's no reason for you to be in pain and uncomfortable. That's what these drugs are for."

15 minutes later... A guy comes in and gives me a whole lot of info about the risks (which scared the hell out of me), how still I had to be, orders everyone out of the room and told me to sit up. I still have a catheter in, my legs and entire body are shaking from adrenaline, I've got the worst headache and I'm extremely nauseous.

I lean up clenching on to a pillow and he sticks the needle in my lower back, and BAM! it's done. Didn't hurt a bit. "That's it?" I say. I immediately feel relief. A few minutes later, I can't feel a thing.

6 P.M.--I'm dilated to a 4, not much progression. My doctor puts some device up my GOODS to try to measure the severity of my contractions. This device helped me somehow because I immediately had stronger contractions. And they were consistent and progressing within minutes. "I'll come back in a couple of hours, and if you're not close, we will talk about other options," the doc says.

So here I am laying in the hospital bed in pain with wet rags on my face, oxygen mask on (Brody was doing better with extra oxygen), but also with a migraine, throwing up and burning up (from the magnesium). I'm just hoping this kid would be pushing his way down and out of my body. After the painful cervix checks from the doctor, and putting devices up in places to monitor my contractions, I was ready for people to leave that part of my body alone (stop sticking things up there) and eager to push this kid out.

8:20 P.M.--My doctor checks my cervix one last time to see if there was any progress, (thankfully I couldn't feel it due to the epidural). "You should be something more," she said.

I stared up at her face trying to gauge her reaction. Please let me be at a 10, please Brody, do it for mommy! Gazing at her face, I thought I saw a glimpse of disappointment. He didn't do it, I thought.

Then very softly, she said, "Ten."

Read part 2 of Brody's Birth Story here.