ALLISON JOELLA BERNSTEIN
8 lbs, 13 ozs
born Tuesday, February 13, 2001
Monday, February 12, 2001
I could no longer count the times I’d passed through the revolving doors (figuratively and literally) of Evanston Women’s Hospital. I can remember the first time, filled with anticipation, on my way with Andrew to our first newborn information class. I had no idea how many times I would enter those doors with anticipation, and how many times I would leave with disappointment, fear and frustration. I’d been through the Great Preterm Labor Shebazzle, when I feared bringing Babypants into the world too early, and I’d been through weeks of bedrest, discomfort, and ongoing contractions since. Most recently I started to show a tendency for pre-eclampsia, which my doctor was monitoring closely and which had also routed me to the doors of Labor and Delivery several times only to eventually be sent home. Over the weekend, I’d developed yet one more troubling sign: floaters in the eyes. After several calls to the doctor, and encouragement from Andrew, I relented and went once more to the doctor’s office. Once more, I was routed to Labor and Delivery. We arrived shortly after noon, once again with me contracting but convinced I would be sent home to more misery. In fact, when time passed into the evening hours we were advised that the resident would be sending us home. Not 30 seconds later did the on-call doctor from my OB practice arrive and advise that he disagreed and that I would be kept and my labor would be induced along.
My first dose of pitocin began around 8pm (after numerous unsuccessful attempts due to my extreme swelling, they finally got blood drawn and an iv started). We made the notification calls that this would not be another false alarm. My mom and Lynn and Dave grabbed their things and hit the road (mom fortunately abided by our request to get a few hours of shuteye before the long trip). Due to the pre-eclampsia, I would also receive magnesium, which prevents seizures (in the rare case that I would develop full-blown eclampsia). I was not happy with the side effects: massive heat stroke, lethargy and sleepiness, and nausea. I believe I ultimately froze everyone who entered the room (I made Andrew bust the windows open during a Chicago February!). I was catheterized (NOT fun!) and would not be permitted to leave my bed for the next 2 days. The pitocin was gradually increased, the contractions started becoming stronger and more regular, and a resident broke my water bag (the nurses are probably still talking about how much water came out!). After several more hours, when things started becoming increasingly uncomfortable, I agreed to get an epidural. Good decision. The procedure was more uncomfortable for Andrew probably than for me (the anesthesiologist made him sit in the corner, although I do remember his hand reaching for mine in the end), and when it kicked in, I recall feeling better than I had in 9 months. My biggest mistake: not using that time for sleep!
Tuesday, February 13, 2001
In the wee hours of the morning, I was checked for progress. As I had been four centimeters dilated for several weeks, I fully expected to hear those prolific words: “You’re ready to push!”. Imagine my surprise and disappointment when I heard… “Four and a half.” I took solace only in that I was now totally effaced. I also knew that my regular doctor would be back from her vacation day today, and that she would now be attending to me for the delivery. She in fact visited in the early morning, and I remember her beginning to prepare me that my labor was not progressing dilatation as quickly as it should, that Babypants was potentially too big for my pelvis and I remember her indicating that if this proved to be the case a c-section was a possibility. I was afraid, but convinced that my body would not defy me and that no way could these sizable hips not be big enough for a little baby… in other words, denial.
Probably partially due to the magnesium and partially due to my lack of sleep, the hours began to become a blur. Lynn and Dave had arrived, my mom had arrived, and I was getting closer and closer to the maximum dosage of pitocin. My contractions looked strong and frequent on the monitor, less than 2 minutes apart, and I was comfortably resting them out with the epidural… until, that is, the epidural started to go astray. Gradually, and then less gradually, I started to feel things again. Initially, just pressure, then more pressure, then pain and pressure, then mega-pain and an amount of pressure I had never felt before. I was really struggling to breathe through the contractions while my beloved husband tried desperately to figure out what I needed (I wouldn’t let him touch me, which I sensed was very difficult for him as he wanted so badly to comfort me), and I remember vaguely advising him sternly that I didn’t need for him to tell me based on the monitor that I was having a big contraction, but that he was perfectly welcome to tell me that it was starting to decline. I don’t remember, but was told later that I was falling asleep in the less than 2 minute gap between every contraction – I guess you gotta be pretty tired for that to happen. I do remember telling Andrew that I couldn’t do it anymore, and also remember the anesthesiologist coming back to “top off” the epidural in the hopes of relieving the pain – which it didn’t. Ultimately they discovered that the catheter they’d originally inserted had been bumped out of place, so the “top-off” did little more than to numb my non-aching feet. I was given the opportunity to get recatheterized, which I kept refusing with the thought that I was already feeling the urge to push, so there couldn’t be much time left to endure.
I remember another few hours passing, with me stubbornly trying to endure the pain and pressure, and becoming increasingly convinced (and afraid) that the pushing part was inevitably soon. The next exam, roughly 24 hours since I’d made it to the hospital, would yield the crushing results: 7-8 cm. I would stay there for the next several hours. Dilatation, especially with contractions at the frequency and intensity that I was having them with the aid of pitocin, should progress at roughly 1cm per hour. I had stopped after LOTS of hours at 7-8, and it wasn’t going any further. After a long and tearful discussion with my doctor, we agreed that a c-section was the only option to safely get Babypants out.
My epidural was recatheterized and the medication was upped. I was at this point completely exhausted, and can remember struggling to stay awake. I also remember calling Joline, our neighbor who had just been through a c-section, for some words of comfort to alleviate my disappointment and fear. I then remember only bits and pieces of being wheeled into the operating room where everything was prepped. Andrew arrived in full scrub uniform, and it seemed like there were millions of doctors. I was laid out on the table as if to be crucified, with a blue sheet shielding us both from seeing what was going on. I also remember feeling scared and nauseous, and really, really tired. I asked Andrew to keep me awake, which he did diligently.
From that point on, I remember low doctor’s voices, and feeling lots of tugging. The only part I remember vividly was when they told me that the baby was coming and held up a mirror for me to watch as Babypants was taken out of my belly. I knew the realities of the situation intellectually, but remember feeling stunned as this actual live little human being came out. I noticed about the same time as someone said it, “it’s a girl!”. I looked at my precious baby girl, and looked at Andrew, and we both wept uncontrollably with joy. I then remember that I couldn’t see much of what was going on at the table where Allison was getting checked out, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of what little I could see. I kept asking how she was, what her Agpar scores were, and watched in fear as tubes were inserted into her mouth and nose to suction mucous (she was ultimately fine). Her eyes were closed tight, she was beautiful, and I remember seeing Andrew walk up to her and talk and watching her open an eye for the first time. She knew her Daddy. I could barely stay awake, but I couldn’t stop crying. The amount of love I felt for my husband and my daughter (oh, my God, I have a daughter!) was totally overwhelming.
I apologize to Babypants and to my fan base for my lack of reporting. The last 2 weeks has included 3 visits to the hospital, each ending in a tearful return home minus babypants' arrival. The threat of pre-eclampsia has surfaced several times only as a teaser, which is good news for mother and baby's health tempered by the disappointing news that babypants is not yet going to be urged out despite all mommy's pleas. Even my doctor has admitted she secretly hoped I'd develop a mild, treatable case so that she could expedite delivery and ease my pain. I continue to experience contractions, getting more and more painful but no more regular, and am told to be thankful that I'm "ahead of the game" at 4cm of dilatation. I have effectively been in a very slow labor process for nearly a month -- go figure we go from fears of baby arriving too early to fears that I'll be carting babypants off to college in my belly. Aargh.
I'm trying to remain strong and optimistic that we're on the "any day now" program, and to remember the excitement about the moment to come. This is no easy task when you can barely walk through the back labor and joint pains, not to mention balancing on feet and ankles swollen to the size of grapefruits. My sister Jennie informed me that a recent dream of hers involved her giving birth to my baby for me. I am more than ready to take her up on that! Meanwhile, we've been very fortunate for the understanding of Andrew's employer, as he has been able to work from home several days a week to be available as my nursemaid. Despite both of our fears about the discomfort to come with labor, to say that we are both anxious for it to start is a massive understatement.
One note of comedy -- during one of my hospital visits, a nurse who I am hoping is new to the field informed me with a great degree of seriousness that Carol Hathaway on "ER" had her first delivery progress extremely quickly (with twins, no less), and that I might be so lucky. I don't consider it a good sign when you have to point out to your nurse the difference between "TV" and "reality"...
Ok, so I've tried to be upbeat and hopeful, if not also a bit entertaining, with this journal. After all, Andrew informs me that there are fans to please based on his daily site diagnostics. Besides, do I really think that Babypants is ready to hear the curse words I've begun to utter???
Ok, Babypants. First things first, I love you very much and I can't wait for you to join this world. Please know this. And an emphasis right now on how much I REALLY, REALLY want you to join us. Ok, now it's time for me to confess that I need for you to come out SOON, REALLY SOON. The truth of the matter is, I am ready to perform my own home c-section. Those Super Chef knives I ordered from the TV ought to do the trick...
Of course I'm kidding... or am I???? Since my admission to the hospital over 3 weeks ago now, I have effectively been on bedrest. I was officially released from it last Thursday, but given ongoing contractions ("false labor"), unrelenting back pain, major swelling and joint pain, among other pains which I won't describe in detail for fear of offending my fan base, I'm not doing much moving around... and sleep, which I have found to require the capability to sustain a comfortable position for longer than 15 minutes, is a luxury I generally can no longer attain. Let's just say that miserable is an understatement. I actually found myself yesterday rooting for tests to reveal pre-eclampsia so that an immediate induction would be dictated -- (the tests revealed no such development yet). I don't think it's a good thing for me to be wishing for any more complications. And I don't think your daddy can take much more of his wife's tears, not to mention any more threatened trips to the hospital that don't come to fruition.
Anyhow, I figure I've given my beloved Babypants almost a full month now of love and comfort in the womb that might not have been. I think, now, it's time for some payback. On Thursday, we'll hit 37 weeks, medically no longer considered pre-term, and I want to make a deal with you, BP -- if you are healthy and mildly ready to join the world, as the books assert you are, PLEASE get a move-on... I promise we'll make your trip worth your while...
Love and begging,
Mommy
Ok, so I've been on bedrest for 2 weeks now. 2 weeks of life spread literally between the bed, the couch, and the toilet. One might have thought with all of this spare time on my hands, there would be some prolific entries to this journal. Yet, when you think about it, how exciting of an entry can you make out of: "Today I spent 3.6 hours laying on my right side, another 6.7 hours laying on my left side, 29 minutes hobbling to the bathroom,"... you get the picture. It seems that the circus I ordered simply didn't show. And somehow all of the great literary works I haven't gotten around to are still waiting for me. If I had to write a "what did you do with your summer" type essay about my last 2 weeks, I'd have trouble with a sentence. The truth of the matter is, I haven't done squat. Unless, of course, you include the list of chores I've come up with for Andrew to do when he gets home from work (really important things like: honey, could you pick up that dustbunny that I've been watching roll around all day? And could you do something about that freaking ladybug that is driving me and the cats nuts?)
Speaking of which, I have relinquished myself to following doctor's orders and not doing anything. I've relinquished all household responsibilities to Andrew, who, bless his heart, hasn't uttered a word of complaint. He comes home from work, and begins his nite job of nurse/maid/cook/all-purpose errand-boy. I have to imagine that he is looking as much forward to my exit from bedrest exile tomorrow as I am, if not more...
In the meanwhile, Babypants and I have made it to 36 weeks together and still intact. Not that baby hasn't continued to try to follow in my footsteps in wanting to be everywhere early. As of this Monday, after a weekend of internal activity despite my lack of external activity, I am now 3cm dilated, and have the discomfort to prove it. Now that I'll be permitted to walk around a bit, I'm not sure if my giant belly and various other aches and pains in areas that I'd prefer not to elaborate on here will cooperate with that effort. I've had continued contractions, including several episodes on Monday that led us both to begin preparing for the trip to the hospital only to find that they ceased to become sufficiently regular to progress labor further. Dr. Forbes has assured me that it isn't likely that the baby will fall out on my way to the bathroom (she also doesn't think Babypants grew 50 pounds in the last 2 weeks, what does she know?)
Anyhoo, I am very grateful that babypants is nearly full-term, and have focused on bringing a healthy baby into the world in order to get through these weeks. I must say, however, that as we are so close to full-term, my patience is definitely getting challenged. As I am ever more hopeful that Babypants is physically ready to join us (or "just about cooked", as Dr. Forbes puts it), I am ever more hopeful that my remaining time in this state is less and less. I am ready for the "real thing" instead of all this teasing. I guess it all goes back to the control issue, and my complete lack thereof in this entire process. I suppose I just need to focus on letting nature take its course, however freakishly it has decided to do so, and to trust that we will be able to welcome our healthy Jeremy or Allison to the world when we are meant to...
Not that I'm counting... (9 days left, and babypants is still hanging tough!)... Top ten things I've learned on bedrest:
1. The cool image of being ordered to be a couch bum watching tv and eating bon-bons lasts about 32 minutes.
2. Cats sleep a LOT.
3. Our upstairs neighbors do NOT sleep a lot.
4. I pee a LOT.
5. I pee more than our upstairs neighbors sleep.
6. Do NOT get up quickly to go to the bathroom in the midst of a leg cramp.
7. There is NOTHING on TV at 3:30am.
8. Despite the anticipated excitement of being permitted to leave the house once a week for the doctor's, waiting in a waiting room chair for an hour does NOT beat laying on the couch with legcramps.
9. Upside of bedrest: Andrew has become quite the chef! I'm going to have to send in a referral for martyrdom...
10. Nope, only 9 things. How much can a person learn between the couch and the bathroom?
