My birth Story.

On the morning of June 7th, I was feeling all the regular nerves one would expect to feel on the day they were scheduled to be induced to give birth to their rainbow baby. Though I had been through the induction process before with our first, this experience was of course going to be vastly different. This time our baby’s heart was still beating. This time we had made it to the finish line, were actually going to be able to cross it, and be handed the most incredible prize one could dream of. This induction experience was not only going to be different because of the overall circumstances, but also because of some of the added steps that were required to get the induction process started.

Since I was being induced so early, at 37 weeks, I needed to have a “foley bulb” procedure done as my cervix wasn’t quite ready. The foley bulb is essentially a catheter/balloon filled with fluid that is inserted to help with dilation of the cervix. This process alone had my stomach in knots as I didn’t really know what to expect. So, heading to the hospital that Friday morning, I was excited yet nervous for the unknown and unexpected. Little did I know the unexpected was going to completely take over that day, and the next few as well.

I’ll pause here for a moment to break from the actual story - I could probably write a book, or at least a considerably long blog post on my entire experience, but I’ll attempt to shorten this as much as I can by sharing the below list instead. To properly describe my full experience at the hospital, it only makes sense to provide a list of all poking and prodding that I endured during my time there in its entirety. So, rather than going into full detail on every “poke” and “prod”, I’ll just share more of a Coles Notes list at the end. This is also a good time to mention that if you think you may be uncomfortable with reading any medical procedure details or think that something might be “TMI”, now would be a good time to stop reading.

I attempted to put together this list in chronological order as best as I could remember. I also added (just for fun) an estimated “discomfort level” for each one to give a rough idea of the… let’s say, lack of enjoyment I encountered for each.

Now, back to my birth story.

Once I was checked in at the hospital, the induction process essentially started with the insertion of the foley bulb. Normally you are able to leave the room and walk around once this procedure is completed, but due to my history (last pregnancy) and a particularly finicky monitoring of baby’s heartbeat that morning, my nurse decided that she wanted me to stay. Since I was not able to move around much, I was surprised and a bit nervous when the bulb fell out earlier than expected. The bulb falling out is supposed to indicate that the cervix is dilated as needed, but when mine was checked, the doctor confirmed that the foley did indeed fall out early and that I was likely going to require another. This might not sound like a big deal, but trust me, the procedure is not fun (refer to the torture… er, poke-and-prod list).

When the doctor could see how stressed I was getting, she suggested slowly increasing the oxytocin (I was currently receiving through IV) over a short period of time to see if it would work on its own. When that didn’t work, they sent in another doctor to place the second foley. To my luck, as soon as the foley was put in, it almost immediately fell out. At this point the next step was going to be manually breaking my water if things did not progress – but with a quick turn of events, this wasn’t needed.

With the anxiety I was feeling over the current situation, I guess I didn’t notice when all nurses and doctors stepped out of the room together before they all came back in surrounding my bed with the latest update that would have my heart and stomach drop to the floor. “Baby’s heart rate is dropping – we are going to need to bring you in for a c-section.” What’s the saying? If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. Well, I must be f***ing hilarious. A c-section, let alone an emergency one, was most certainly not part of my birth plan. As scared as I was to go in for a c-section, nothing was quite as terrifying as understanding that baby could be in danger and needed to come out now. This is certainly not the birthing experience you want to have after losing a baby.

While the doctors and nurses put down my bed in preparation to rush me out of the room, I looked over at my husband Alex’s face and could see the same expression of fear that I felt weighing down my entire body. As they ran me down the hall to the operating room, I felt like the gunshot wounded patient that you see in drama or action movies. I held my hand over my face and managed not to sob as the panic took over instead. I wasn’t so much distracted by the bright lights of the operating room ceiling, but rather the plethora of masked people behind the doors; many of which were running up to me to tell me who they were and what they would be helping with. It felt like there were 20 people in the room, and maybe there was. I was overwhelmed and dizzied by everything that was happening around me. The only moment that really mattered from most of what was a total blur, was the announcement that baby was out, and his heart rate was now normal. From leaving the hospital room to having Alex in scrubs beside me holding our baby boy, it felt like maybe 10 minutes had passed.

Brodie Joseph Belanger entered the world at 8:01 p.m. on Friday, June 7th. Due to his early and abrupt delivery, Brodie had some breathing issues that resulted in his admission into the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). Though we had already been aware that there was a possibility of a visit to the NICU due to the early delivery, it was still difficult to hear that our little man would need the extra care. Even though the doctors were all reassuring, we still struggled to see Brodie hooked up to a CPAP (breathing machine), feeding tube, and other monitors.

What made matters worse, or to put it more honestly, almost unbearable for a new mother was the fact that I could not see him for the first couple of days as I was bedridden due to the c-section recovery, among other complications. I was at least able to hold him the night of his birth, shortly after delivery as they wheeled my bed from recovery into the NICU before checking us into our hospital room.

My initial thought or plan (ha, me making more plans), was that I would get some rest that night, go see Brodie the next day, and hopefully be discharged that day or more likely the day after. **Queue booming Godly laughter** NOPE. That night when the nurse and obstetrician were checking my postpartum bleeding, they discovered that I was losing a lot of blood. I was having a postpartum hemorrhage (PPH). A PPH is when your blood loss after delivery is greater than the normal or expected amount of blood loss that comes along with giving birth. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), PPH is the leading cause of maternal mortality worldwide.

When the doctor walked into my room and started putting gloves on that looked like the ones farmers wear when delivering a calf, I grabbed for Alex’s hand. After other failed efforts to slow or stop the bleeding, the doctor now needed to manually remove blood clots. Believe it or not, this was not an enjoyable experience (again, refer to list). After what felt like, and probably actually ended up being, hours later, I finally was able to get a bit of sleep.

The next day Alex had been in an out of the NICU to visit Brodie and to get the latest updates from the NICU nurses and doctors. Even though Brodie was making progress, it was clear that he was not going to be discharged any time soon. That day it was my goal to get out of bed to go see him. When the nurse decided that it was time for me to attempt to walk, my family doctor happened to be there at the same time to come check on me. My mom had also dropped in for a visit and was lucky enough to be there for my failed attempt of getting out of bed. With the nurse supporting me on my left, Alex supporting me on my right, and my doctor standing in front of me, I slowly tried to lift myself from the side of the bed. When I started to put pressure on my feet, which were already softly planted on the ground, I started to lose consciousness. It felt as though I was drifting in and out of sleep as I couldn’t grasp what was going on around me. My head was falling, and all I could hear around me was “Karla, Karla stay with us.” I was passing out. The nurse and Alex helped me to lie back down, and I started to come to. Once I was aware of my surroundings again, my doctor made it clear that I would not be getting out of bed today and that I could try again tomorrow. I wasn’t going to be able to see my baby – I was heartbroken.

That night when the new night nurse came to check my vitals, she asked if I had my blood taken recently. I told her that the previous nurse had requested for my blood to be taken the next morning. With concern in her voice, she indicated that my blood pressure was very low and that I would need to get my blood taken that night. After more poking and prodding was done, the results were in; I needed to get a blood transfusion. Feeling again like the gunshot wounded patient from the movies, the thought of a blood transfusion seemed terrifying to me. Prior to my hospital visit, I had already signed paperwork agreeing to allow a blood transfusion if needed, but I also signed it thinking “obviously I won’t actually need this” – obviously. The nurse could see my hesitation in wanting to move forward, even though I indicated to her “well if I need it, I need it.” She said, “You are very sick.” **Terror amplified** Needless to say, we proceeded. They called for the blood order immediately and that night I received a transfusion of two IV bags of blood.

The next day (day three) after the transfusion was complete, I was starting to feel a lot less delirious, my blood pressure was no longer dangerously low, and my hemoglobin levels were back up. Even though I was beyond eager to get out of bed and make it to the NICU, I knew that it was going to be difficult to make it from my bed to the wheelchair that the hospital provided. My attempt that morning, though much better than the previous day’s, still failed. I was again devastated. Once the evening came, I was not only determined to make it to the wheelchair, I was desperate. I was getting into that chair even if it meant that I had to crawl on the dirty hospital floor and get crane-lifted into it. With the help of the nurse and Alex, I got up (through pain) and hunched my way over to the chair – I was able to see my baby.

Finally, on day five when I was going to be discharged myself, we received the incredible news that by that evening the NICU was going to be able to discharge Brodie; we were going to be able to take him home.

The hospital visit was longer than expected, the experience was more traumatic than I could have imagined, but the love that we have for this baby is unparalleled and is worth every second of what we had to endure. I will remember the trauma, but I will also remember the immense joy we felt when our baby had finally arrived.

To Brodie, from the Robert Munsch classic: “I’ll love you forever. I’ll like you always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.”

The List:

·       Insertion of IV – discomfort level: 2/5

·       Blood taken – discomfort level: 2/5 (just because I am a baby when it comes to getting blood taken)

·       Check one of cervix (Dr. checking dilation of cervix) – discomfort level: 3/5

·       Insertion of foley bulb one – discomfort level: 4/5

·       Pitocin/Oxytocin medication through IV – discomfort level: 0/5

·       Contractions brought on by Oxytocin – discomfort level: 3/5

·       Check two of cervix – discomfort level: 3/5

·       Check three of cervix – discomfort level: 3/5

·       Insertion of foley bulb two after first foley falls out (are you F***ing kidding me?) – discomfort level: 4/5

·       Check four or five of cervix after foley #2 falls out (please make it stop.) – discomfort level: 3/5

·       Insertion of epidural – discomfort level: ???/5 (too delirious from being rushed into emerge c-section to remember)

·       Insertion of catheter – discomfort level: 0/5 as this was done after the epidural (though I will mention that I started to feel pain caused by having the catheter in still on day three and needed to get it removed that evening)

·       C-section procedure (i.e. cutting open my abdomen to retrieve stressed baby) – discomfort level: 0 for pain during procedure, 10 for the total mind-F*** that came with getting an emergency c-section and feeling the pressure/movement of internal organs being moved around as well as baby pulled out

·       At least 10 blood pressure checks – discomfort level: 0/5

·       At least 10 temperature checks – discomfort level: 0/5

·       At least 10 bleeding checks (i.e. nurse or dr. pressing on stomach above incision to see how much blood is emitting vaginally) – discomfort level: 3-5/5 depending on stage it was being done

·       More oxytocin through IV to help start contractions again when bleeding wasn’t decreasing: 0/5

·       Needle/injection in thigh when bleeding wasn’t decreasing (I do not even remember the specifics of what this was for): 1/5

·       Two pills inserted rectally when bleeding wasn’t decreasing (also do not remember the specifics of what this was for, but it all was related to the hemorrhaging): 2/5

·       Manual removal of blood clots (after learning of hemorrhage) – discomfort level: the limit does not exist. So, 10/5?

·       Second needle/injection in thigh – discomfort level: 1/5

·       Blood test when blood pressure was very low – discomfort level: 2/5

·       Fluid IVs added when fluids were low – discomfort level: 0/5

·       Attempt at inserting a new IV in right hand for the blood transfusion (attempt failed and we ended up using the same IV that was already in left hand - Awesome.) – discomfort level: 3/5

·       Blood transfusion – discomfort level: physically 0/5, mentally a super solid 5/5

·       Iron given through IV – discomfort level: 0/5

·       Flushing of IV and eventual removal of IV when I pointed out how swollen and in pain my hand was to the nurse – 3.5/5 (they ended up removing it earlier than they wanted because it was no longer inserted properly – I guess this is what happens after getting an insane amount of fluid pumped through you for 3.5 days in a row)

·       Walking/standing/healing of actual c-section surgery – discomfort level: 5/5 (this includes the insane swelling of my elephant stumps i.e. feet that I could barely walk on)