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 2

Read Part 1 first...

Simultaneously, my sister and Klay say, "WHAAAAT? Wow. In two hours!"

"Now I want you to push." 

WAIT, SAY WHAT NOW?

I didn't take any classes. I don't know what I'm doing. All I'm hearing in my head is Bill Cosby singing "Push 'em out, push 'em out, waaaaaay out!" I did literally think about grabbing Klay's bottom lip...(Those of you that have seen Bill Cosby Himself will understand that one. Side-note...it's hilarious).

With Bill cheering me on, and using what I'd seen in movies, I just pushed hard.

"Look at that head right there," the doctor said to Klay. Klay looks and smiles. It's 8:27 p.m.

Britney is filming, which at the time we didn't know we weren't supposed to do. Meanwhile, mom and several others wait in the lobby clueless to what's happening in the room down the hall.

Nervous and anxious, Britney is hollering about needing to call mom to come back. "Can we get mom? Hey, we got to get mom! Can we get her? Can we get her?"

In between contractions, the doctor declares that she's going to explain to me how to push. She starts rambling on, and while I'm watching her speak, I'm really focusing on Britney who's on the phone with my mom. Frankly, I was more concerned with making sure mom came down to the room rather than listening to the doctor's directions. Majority of the women in my family have had c-sections (at least mom and Brit both did), so the idea of pushing and having a vaginal birth was exciting to the Welch clan.

Turning my attention back to the doctor I said, "Could you explain it to me one more time?" My legs and body were shaking from adrenaline. My doctor complied, caressed my leg and said she wasn't explaining well--she was, I just wasn't listening. She was being nice.

Once I understood the directions, Mom arrived taking hold of the camera and still waiting for another contraction, she who has to pee really really bad asks the room, "Can I go to the restroom?"

Seriously! This woman has the bladder the size of a pea; no pun intended. Mom rushes into the bathroom that's in the delivery room. The nurses look around like "where is she going?"

Meanwhile, my doctor shines a big UFO-looking light down at the tiny bit of head you can see, puts on her gear (prepping like she's about to go to war or something) ready for my little guy to arrive.

Once everyone, including mom was situated, another contraction started. I began to push. I'm staring at Klay, who looks insanely nervous, as I'm trying to get some indication on what's going on down there; I can't feel a thing. Klay's legs and body are shaking as he hoists my left leg in the air. I've never seen him so nervous and anxious at the same time. The time we waited for was finally here; we were going to meet our sweet boy.

Now my legs are in some sort of contraction so no one is holding them.



"Push real hard, real hard," my doctor says. I'm pushing and then stop. Then go again.

I don't remember how many times I pushed, but it wasn't but probably only four times in two more waves of contractions.

At 8:37 p.m. I pushed and COPLOOOW, there he was--a dark haired 6 lbs 4 oz little boy--my Brody.

It was seriously the best moment of my life, when they placed my son in my arms for the very first time. Seeing his sweet little face, thinking he didn't look how I'd picture he would, and praising the Lord that he didn't come out looking like a six-month-old Hispanic boy (pregnancy dreams are crazy yall!).

I've seen movies and watched "A Baby Story," but since it finally happened to me and this was my first experience with my child, it was surreal and the most beautiful moment of my life.

Since I was going to try to breastfeed (read my experience with that here), we did skin-to-skin time, and once it was finally time to try, Brody latched on immediately and it was pure mommy-and-son bliss. That is by far the most precious moment I'd ever experienced--EVER. I couldn't believe how different breast feeding was than how I'd imagined it would be.

My perfect moment was soon interrupted by nausea caused by the magnesium seeping through my veins and the forever-lasting migraine. Brody who was nudey-pants peed on me, which I didn't mind at all, but then not even a moment later, I needed to hurl. So I was holding Brody with my left arm and getting sick in a bag on my right. 

When I watched my husband hold Brody for the first time, it washed away the ickiness I was feeling for a moment, which was nearly two hours after Brody was born (because they used that for only skin-on-skin bonding time). Klay was so happy to meet his son. I've never seen him more proud than when he got to hold him. He was in pure awe of our little fella.

I knew he'd be an amazing father, but seeing the way he stared at Brody in amazement only made it even more clear that he was going to be the best dad any wife or son could ask for. Our family felt complete.

Part 3 of Brody Jack's Birth story coming soon.

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.

 

Mommy Mistake = 911

Ok, guys. I've not posted lately because I've been trying to decide whether or not I wanted to blog about my most recent major incident with Brody.

I struggled with the decision to post or not to post, because of the pure humiliation and embarrassment of what happened over two weeks ago. Plus, I needed a little time to try to begin to forgive myself.

As parents, we are all bound to make mistakes. We are only human and aren't perfect, no matter how hard we try. So before you read this, I want to express how embarrassed I am to share my story. However, I chose to write about this incident because I have some dedicated readers out there (and on my best day, I had nearly 260 views on my blog from all over the world) and I do feel an obligation---a good obligation---to write about my trials and triumphs as I explore my new life as mommy.

I started this blog so people can read, laugh and share our journeys as parents. But I also decided to start this blog, because I wanted people to really learn from my mistakes. So, here it goes...

About two weeks ago, Klay and I met my mom at Walmart to buy flowers for our garden. We are no experts on plants, so we inquired mom's help. We were about to check out when Brody got fussy; it was time for him to eat. Klay told me to just head out to the truck and feed him because we had to get home ASAP to drop of the plants before heading out to Dallas for my doctor appointment.

I complied and took Brody out to the truck. I unlocked the door, put his car seat in the truck (but not in the base) facing toward the driver's side passenger door because I was going to walk to the other side to feed him.

I'd forgotten that Klay's new truck has an autostart. So proud of myself that I remembered, I started it up to get the truck to cool down a bit faster. I grabbed my bags and sat them in the truck and shut the door.



Uh-oh, I thought and started yanking on the handle to the LOCKED door.

Ok, so I've NEVER once locked my keys in my car, and the first time I do it, my three-month-old is in the backseat.

I immediately start panicking. What do I do? My phone is in the car. I can't call Klay or anyone for help. Decision time: do I leave my child in the locked car that was running, though the keys weren't in the ignition, to go get Klay and get help or do I stay there until Klay and Mom get out to the car? Luckily, I turned around and saw Klay heading out the doors and over to the car.

I start hollering at him to hurry and get over there and then quickly tell him what happened. His immediate reaction: "I'm breaking the window."

A week before, when Klay first got his truck, he was looking at the manual and found the number for OnStar. He told me, "OnStar can unlock your car remotely, if you just call this number." I said, "Put that number in your phone cause it'll be good to have."

I told Klay to call OnStar first. The car is still running, and Brody has AC, but it's not going to last forever. As some of you probably know, autostarts eventually shut off if you don't put the key in the ignition.

Mom comes out, with a Walmart associate who's helping her carry out five trees she bought, and I run over and tell mom what happened. I ask the Walmart employee if they know if they have someone in the auto/mechanic department that has something they can jimmy the car door open with. She runs in to seek help.

Meanwhile, I'm bawling and hysterical. I can hear Brody crying and I can't get to him---THE WORST FEELING EVER.

Klay gets mad because OnStar is no help, saying something like we aren't in the system (it's not a new truck, we bought it used). THEN, the truck cuts off.



I'm saying "call someone, call someone!" Mom, then, dials 911.

Now I really have the water works going. I'm sobbing and so distraught, I start throwing up in the parking lot. Klay starts looking around for a rock to break the window to his new truck, when four managers from Walmart come outside, along with a Walmart mechanic. They immediately start working on jimmying the lock.

A few minutes later (I'm not really sure how long this took cause it seemed like forever), the fire department arrives and they give it a go. Brody is now calm and looking around like what's going on guys? He's interested in watching all the people surrounding the windows trying to get into the truck.

Finally, they are successful and unlock the truck. I'd say it took them at least 7-10 minutes to get in the truck. I told mom that the whole ordeal had to of lasted 30 or more minutes, but she seemed to think it was less, saying it just seemed longer to me.

When I got in to my baby boy, he was cool as a cucumber. Smiling at me as though he wanted to let me know he was ok and not to worry.



Klay and mom hugged and thanked everyone for all of their help and rapid response. I tried my best to pull myself together to thank everyone, but I was still a mess. Felt like I deserved and earned the title as the "Worst Mom of the Year." So, special thanks to Terrell Walmart staff, managers and employees and Terrell Fire Department. We are forever grateful!!!

I did end up making it to my doctor appointment and my blood pressure was 142/108. That should tell you what kind of state I was in.

So, here I am, telling all of you about this horrific incident. I never want anyone to have to go through that. I've been so upset with myself for allowing that to happen. I could have understood if I'd been rushing, but I wasn't. It's taken me a while to truly TRY to forgive myself. But I figured the best way to start forgiving myself is to write about it and try to prevent others from doing the same thing.

As a parent, brother, sister, grandparent or friend to any child, please learn from my mistake. Every time you buckle a child in, think of me and Brody, and ask yourself "where are my keys?" If your rushing to get somewhere, slow down, make sure they are buckled in right, and that you have the keys on you at all times. Thankfully, it wasn't crazy hot outside that morning, but summer is almost in full-swing, and it's getting hotter by the day. So, keep your keys on you!

Wishing you many more successful days as parents/grandparents and no days like this incident,

Cassidy