Keian Matthew's birth

My doctor called for the c-section and I panicked. I started crying and suddenly there were several nurses surrounding me. I hesitated to ask, but I eventually did... "is it the cord?" And I heard nothing. All I could see were nurses unhooking me from everything I was plugged into. My doctor hopped on to my bed. I looked over at Matt and he was on his cell phone. I snapped and said something about how he should be holding my hand or at least near me. I know he was probably trying to let somebody know what was going on, but I wanted some kind of comfort. I wanted comfort because my mind was going places I've never had my mind go when I was about to deliver a baby. The fact that my doctor didn't answer my question about what she was feeling pretty much confirmed for me that it was, in fact, his cord.

Somewhere in the mix of all this action, I did find out that my doctor not only felt the cord coming out, but she also wasn't holding him up by his head. So upon my water breaking, he had somehow flipped back to the breech position, and the cord prolapsed. I knew nothing about a prolapsed cord except what a friend had told me a few years ago when it happened to her--and her story terrified me. So that was my basic knowledge of what was now happening to my little guy and me.

I was crying and praying out loud for God to let me keep my baby. For him to be born fast and come out pink, crying and healthy. I repeated "Please let me keep my baby!" over and over and over. I had never been so terrified for my child's life. Even in all the chaos, somewhere in my mind I was already trying to prepare myself for leaving the hospital without a baby. I really don't know how to explain this, but I was. But at the same time, I was pleading for his life.

Within probably about 2 minutes the team of nurses wheeled me out of my labor/delivery room, while my doctor sat on the bed with me holding my baby off of his cord. I don't think I was even completely covered as I was whisked into the hallway. But I didn't care. I wanted my baby out of me.

My doctor was on her knees looking down at me as we were taken to the OR. I looked up at her, very scared to ask the question that was burning a hole in my mind and heart. I could hardly look her in the eyes--like if I did I would be able to read her too well and then I'd know my baby wasn't safe. But I did it. I asked her if my baby was still alive. I could hear the terror in her voice, but I could also tell she was trying to remain calm for my sake. She said very matter of factly, "I can feel his cord pulsating. It's about 100 beats per minute." I knew that wasn't great, but I also knew 100 beats per minute wasn't horrible either. I told her I was scared, and she told me in that same calm/terror voice that she was too.

I got into the OR and another doctor, an OB that was (as I later found out) in the parking lot when they called for the section, was there. It was the same doctor that helped do my version. She's very kind and I liked my previous experience with her, so at least that was a little bit of comfort as well.

I remember looking over at Matt standing against the wall as they were messing with me--I say messing only because I don't remember what they were doing. I turned away from him briefly, and then back again and he suddenly had scrubs on. Next, I remember they said that I had to move from the bed I was on to the operating table. Knowing that I'd just had my epidural strengthened because I was feeling too much of the contractions just an hour before, I was a little worried I wouldn't make it on to that table. But in my head I knew I had to give it my all to get on to that table as fast as I could. So despite all my shaking and the fact that I was mostly numb, I was somehow able to get myself up and on to that bed with little assistance. The doctors and nurses were a bit shocked, but I wasn't. I was doing everything I could to get him out of me as fast as I could. I was even begging them to just cut me open right there on the bed I was already on. I said I didn't care if I could feel the pain of the scalpel because all that mattered was getting him out. I guess adrenaline had definitely taken over at this point.

I got on to the operating table in seconds, and then Matt was by my side sitting on a stool with a mask and hairnet. They draped the blue curtain to separate us from the birth. I wish they didn't. I wish I could've seen my baby boy come into this world. We didn't have our video camera or camera, nor did we have the thought at the time to use one of our iPhones to capture his birth. Matt was staring into my eyes the whole time, and I stared back. I asked him if he thought everything was going to be okay, and he said yes.

Next thing I knew I could feel too much. The same anesthesiologist asked if I could feel that sharp pain as somebody used something on my stomach as a test run of the scalpel. Still crying, I said, "yes." He immediately put something else in my epidural catheter and did the test run again. I couldn't feel anything. In fact, I found out that what I thought was the doctors moving the operating table around, was actually them pushing and pulling on me--that's how "brick-numb" I was.

Next, the procedure started. My doctor at this point was down on the floor, still holding my son up off of his cord. Because if at any time he compressed his own cord, his life-line was in jeopardy. Babies that go without oxygen can have anything from brain damage to death, so I'm very grateful that she was able to keep him off of his cord.

I could feel a burning sensation as they pulled and tugged. I cried out about it hurting, but part of that was just pure terror. I was scared. Scared of so much, but mostly just the outcome for my son. Soon thereafter, at 6:26 pm, he was ripped from my body and taken over to the warmer. I didn't hear any crying, and I just kept asking whoever would listen if he was okay. And at 44 seconds he cried. And he cried some more. And soon enough the pediatrics team that was called in to assist him after he arrived was sent away. So was Life Flight--I didn't even know they'd been called on stand-by until nearly two weeks after he was born.

He received all 9's on his apgar. They also tested his blood gas and it was great. That's when it really hit me that not only could he have not made it, but he could've survived and ended up with severe brain damage. What hit me even harder is how fast life can change. At 6:13 he was still, what we all thought, a thriving baby who was going to be born naturally. At 6:14 my doctor called for a c-section. And at 6:26 he was born. All of those emotions, all of the highs and the lows... they all happened within those short 13 minutes. I was still in shock as they brought him over to me.

But I couldn't wait to see him. To see his sweet face. His hair (I was told that he'd have a ton of hair by our sono tech). His belly and toes. All of him. I wanted to hold him and to smell him, and I never wanted to let him go. I didn't want to be separated from him. Fortunately, since he was doing so well, Matt got to hold him for a bit and I got to look at him. He was perfect and nothing else mattered. It didn't matter that I wanted the least invasive birth possible. It didn't matter that I ended up with the most invasive birth possible. All the nights I spent worrying about him being breech. None of it mattered. He was here, safe and sound, and he was ours.

The doctors began to sew me back up, and one of them (who happens to have a very dry sense of humor that most people don't really appreciate) kept commenting on how large my uterus was. I kept wanting to say, "No sh*t, Sherlock! I've had six pregnancies in seven years-- go figure." But I didn't. I was too happy about my son being here.

I heard the nurses and doctors counting tools and the like when they realized they couldn't find a towel clip. I don't even know what a towel clip is, but since they didn't have time to count everything prior to surgery, they didn't know if they were short-changed a towel clip or if they left it inside me. I was told they knew that it wasn't left inside me, but to be safe... guess who then got an x-ray? Yep, they x-rayed my belly to see if they left a towel clip in me. They had to send the x-ray to some doctor at his house, and it took forever to get the results. I swear I was in the OR for an hour waiting on the results. But finally it was confirmed that no towel clip was left inside me.

So, finally I got to go to the recovery room. This was not fun. Because really this shouldn't be called the recovery room, but rather the "beat-you-in-your-swollen-stitched-up-utereus" room. Thank God I was still kind of numb, but it was very unpleasant. I always hate that part of delivery, but it sucks a lot more after a c-section.

At one point shortly after I got to that special room, I glanced over at the clock on the wall and saw that it had been two hours since his birth. And just like then, I still can't tell you where all the time in between went--other than waiting in the OR for the towel clip to be found--which it never was. At this point, our son still didn't have a name. But if memory serves, it was here in the recovery room that we both agreed that he looked like Keian Matthew--which was the name we had picked out. We just wanted to make sure that's who he looked like--and he did!

I was able to nurse him right away in the recovery room. I was lying flat on my back with one arm in a pressure cuff, a wound on my belly, numb legs, and a head of messy hair--but somehow nursing him was easy. Not sure how we lucked out on something with him being easy, but it was.

As it neared the two hour mark of me being monitored post-op, I was told I was going to be cleaned up and taken to my new room. It was nearing 10pm at this point and I told Matt that it'd be a good time for him to go eat since he hadn't eaten since breakfast. So once he made sure I was okay, he took off and the baby went to the nursery until Matt could be back with me. They wouldn't let me have Keian in my room without Matt because I wouldn't be able to get to him should there be an emergency. So I agreed.

Sometime around 11, Matt came back and our son followed. I was finally able to get a good look at him, and I noticed the white goo in his ears that had just been there was suddenly gone. I asked the nurse if they bathed him, and she said that they had. I was mad. Nobody asked me if they could bathe him. I always get my baby's first bath on camera and on video, and I always ask for it to be done in the room so I can watch. And here they went and did it behind closed doors. So once again, I have no pictures or video or even a memory of his first bath. I realize that he's here and healthy and that's all that really matters, but I feel so ripped off. So I began making up for it by taking pictures of things I've never really captured on camera before. It's helping a little.

He was born on a Monday night and I was finally able to go home on Friday afternoon. We had to stay an extra day because I developed an infection about  two days after he was born. To make me heal quickly, I received two simultaneous doses of Rocephin injected into my hips until we knew exactly what kind of bug had me down. I'd had this shot of antibiotic before, and it never hurt. But this time was a little different--I had a bruise for two weeks from one of the shots. Eventually, they found the bacteria in the urine culture (noting in the blood culture) and tested antibiotics against it to see what could knock it out. I thought that was kind of cool.

As the days passed once we were home from the hospital, I asked Matt questions about the birth of our Keian. That's how I found out about Life Flight being called. He's helped to fill in some of the gaps, but honestly, it's all still such a blur. He told me that after Keian was born, he was sitting outside the OR with our sweet nurse, Maria. Maria is the one nurse we've had each time we've had a baby. She knows us and remembers us. And she is so kind. Since all of this went down as shift-change was approaching, she ended up staying pretty late. Matt said he overheard her calling home telling her husband to take the kids to her mom's house and that she wouldn't be home for dinner. And then she sat next to my husband and apologized over and over about how sorry she was that we didn't get the birth we wanted. About how we had everything invasive done to me--even the xray. And how she just couldn't believe it. Matt tried telling her it wasn't her fault, but she continued to apologize. She then came by my recovery room later that night--several hours past the time she should've gone home. I told her how appreciative I was of her and the care she gave us. And that I was so glad God had put her with me that day.

 In fact, as I sat in the hospital those next few days, I realized just how incredibly everything worked out. The fact that I chose to be induced and have my water break at the hospital. I couldn't help but think what could've happened had my water broke at home--later my doctor confirmed that had I had my water break at home, there's no way he would've survived our 45 minute ride to the hospital. My delivery happened during shift-change, so there were several people available to assist in his delivery. And the fact that Dr. B (the OB that did my ECV and c-section) was in the parking lot when she was called up to L&D for his birth. Otherwise I would've been waiting for several more minutes for my doctor's partner, another Dr. B (the one with the dry sense of humor) to arrive and do the surgery. In a situation where every second counts, I am blessed to see those miracles that came together to help my son come into this world safely. And not a day goes by where I don't think of how he was born. Of how he was so close to something traumatic happening. Of how he is a complete and total miracle of life. And of course, how completely blessed we are to have him.

Love you, my little Hunk!

Keian Matthew

Born 9/17/2012 @ 6:26pm

8lbs 6oz, 21 inches