Breathing Lessons
At approximately 7:00 a.m. on a wintry morning in January, I awoke to a dull aching in my abdomen and low back. The aching was not disturbing enough to pull me into a fully awakened state as I dozed for several more hours. At 10:30 a.m., I woke to the same aching that was similar to
a menstrual cramp and decided to drag myself from my bed to face what I guessed
was going to be a very interesting and eventful day.
As I stood in the shower letting the warm water sprinkle
upon me like a watering can and as the muscles of my abdomen tightened and
flexed, I realized, I must be in labor. Two
days had passed since the due date of the birth of my baby. I figured the twinges of pain I was
experiencing had to be my little baby knocking, letting me know he was ready to
join the outside world. I had waited for
this moment for 29 days and my patience was exhausted, but when the realization
of the event found a space deep within me, I was very enthused and yet, very
frightened. Nothing could prevent the
situation from occurring and continuing its course. I was hours away from giving birth to a baby
and
I knew I was going to experience a pain like no other.
After calling both my obstetrician and my mother, I called
my best friend, Katie. I learned from
the half dozen books I had read and from the childbirth classes I attended that
it would be several hours before I would be going to the hospital and even
longer before I would actually be having a baby, so I felt that it was not
necessary to ask my husband to come home from work.
After the phone rang several times, someone picked up.
“Hello?”
questioned Katie.
“Hi,
Katie. I think our laps around the mall
yesterday worked.” I stated.
The previous day, Katie and I walked around the entire mall
five times in hopes of inducing my labor.
“I’ll
be right over!” yelled Katie, and the
phone went dead.
Katie arrived with excitement and anticipation for the main
attraction of the day. I, on the other
hand, was very agitated and had no intention of sitting still for the first
stage of my labor. We decided to go shopping. We headed for the grocery store and picked up
our friend, Aimee, along the way. There
we were, loading up the cart with Fritos, Ho-Hos, Welch’s strawberry soda, and
Totino’s frozen pizza rolls. It has been said
that it isn’t wise to eat rich or spicy foods while in labor, that nausea and
vomiting can be a direct result of such eating, but I simply forgot that small
tidbit. Eating my favorite foods just
seemed like the rational, logical response to being in labor.
Approximately six hours after the onset of my labor my
contractions weren’t any less than about ten minutes apart but they seemed to
have a little more bite to them. Each time
I experienced a contraction, I just froze, looked straight ahead, and breathed
in very deeply. My friends tried to comfort
me with their sympathetic facial expressions, but as the hours dragged on, the
cramping in my abdomen was becoming serious pain. The phrase “gut wrenching” took on a whole
new, very real meaning to me.
Sometime after 3:00 p.m., my husband, Michael arrived
home. Michael knew that I was in labor
and I think he was expecting the worst from which was a nearly accurate
assumption. Shortly after his arrival,
my contractions worsened. The pain
became more intense and the span of time between contractions narrowed to four
to five minutes. Katie timed my groans,
Aimee kept cool washcloths in supply for my nervous demand, and Michael tried
to reassure my insecurity by holding my hand and acting as a wall of support
for each contraction as I clung to his limbs.
Over the next four and half hours, I lay quietly on my side,
waddled around our apartment, took what proved not to be a soothing hot bath,
and tried profusely to “go to the bathroom” to no avail in finding some relief
to my extreme discomfort. At 8:00 p.m.,
my contractions were two to three minutes apart and lasted 60-90 seconds
each. The pain during contractions was
nearly unbearable and as I held tight to a small, soft “Paddington” rattle
which I intended to give our baby at his birth, I decided it was time to go to
the hospital. Michael drove us to the hospital
while Katie remained very alert with her note pad and pencil as she tracked my
increasingly intense abdominal muscle spasms.
When we arrived at the hospital, my husband tried to aid my
attempt to remove myself from the car. Every
moment was bombarded by agonizing obstacles.
As I leaned into the wheelchair that would escort me to the birthing
floor, I nearly collapsed with pain as I clutched my husband and held him
tightly to my face. As the nurse wheeled
me away, tears rolled down my face and fear was creeping all around me.
Once in my room, I became angry and disoriented as I tried to undress myself. The nurse asked me with concern,
“How are you doing?”
I couldn’t believe she asked me that.
“How do you think I’m doing?” I snapped loudly
I quickly wished I hadn’t said anything from the stunned look on the nurse’s face, but my husband soon came to my rescue as he helped me into my hospital gown. I tried to relax on the birthing bed but could not find a comfortable position. While rocking on my hands and knees, my contractions only worsened and I was no longer excited for this event. I very simply wanted the pain to stop. I forgot why I was there, that my purpose there was to feel pain and to give birth to the baby that I wanted so much.
With each jolt of twisting and pulling in my belly, I shook my head wildly, pounded my fists fiercely into the bed, and squeezed the life from the object closest to me which happened to be my husband’s hand. Michael encouraged me to take deep breaths and to remember what we learned at out childbirth classes.
“Kimberly, honey, we’re having a baby. Try to concentrate on that,” he whispered gently.
“I can’t! It hurts too much! I can’t do this anymore! Please just make the pain stop, Michael. Please make it stop!”
“Try to do your breathing exercises. Try to concentrate,” he scolded, though soothingly.
The childbirth classes we attended taught us emphatically to use breathing exercises as a way to deal with a pain that would become my ultimate stressor. Remembering the classes, I thought the birth of my baby was going to be a wonderful experience full of deep breathing that would relieve pain. Remembering the labor and delivery of my baby, I pondered that either I wasn’t paying attention in class or that the breathing lessons taught are just a hoax! With each contraction, I stopped breathing. The pain was so severe that I couldn’t calm down enough to concentrate on breathing. I couldn’t concentrate on doing what every human being does nearly involuntarily.
My OB nurse could see that I wasn’t dealing with this blessed experience very well and results from my internal examination concluded that my cervix had only dilated 3cm, so after she received permission, an anesthesiologist was called and an epidural was inserted between the vertebras of my spine providing a pain killing drug. Very shortly after, I was in ecstasy. I was completely numb from my chest down to my toes.
Through the course of the next three hours, I was a very “happy hospital camper”. An intravenous needle was inserted into a vein in my hand which fed me a drug called Pitocin. Pitocin is a synthetic form of the hormone Oxytocin. In a woman’s body, oxytocin is released during labor to cause uterine contractions. The doctor felt that it would be beneficial to all of us if my contractions were quickened and intensified, ultimately quickening my labor. I had no intention of arguing since I couldn’t feel anything anyway.
A fetal heart monitor was inserted into my vagina and attached to my baby’s head. I could hear his heart beat as it “pitter-pattered through the monitor’s speaker. Plastic tubes were forced into my nostrils as oxygen pushed its way into my lungs and throughout my body. At this point, it was very important that I was breathing properly so that enough oxygen was supplied to both me and my baby. The nurse asked me to try to get some sleep because I would need my strength when it came time to push. What a glorious experience painless pushing would be, or would have been, if my labor had reached that stage.
Sometime around 1:30 a.m., a very heavy, tingling pain radiated through my left side between my chest and knee. Initially, the pain just mildly taunted me but became sincere within minutes. I pressed the “call button” attached the side of the bed and soon a nurse came in. I explained to her what I felt and she sent for the anesthesiologist. A second dose of the pain killing drug was injected into the epidural which caused me to be unable to move my legs, but the pain still radiated.
At this point, I became very nervous and leery as to what
would happen next. As I waited from some
relief or at least some instruction for the next step of my ordeal and as I lay
almost perfectly still on the bed in which I thought I was to give birth, I could
hear a very faint and abnormally slow tapping.
“Oh no!” I thought to myself. “Please, God, don’t let this happen,” I muttered aloud.
“What is it?” Michael asked, as I broke the long silence with my prayer.
“It’s the heartbeat,” I replied. “It’s too slow. You better get the nurse.”
Michael just stood there for a moment and then ran out of the room. Within seconds, a nurse came into the room to check the monitor. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t even look at me. As quickly as she had come into the room, she was gone. I lay there helpless, unable to move, in pain, and I had no idea what was happening except that my baby’s heart rate was decreasingly rapidly and I knew that wasn’t right.
It felt like forever had passed before I saw anyone again. All at once, my doctor, the anesthesiologist, and two nurses were in the room checking the machines in which I was connected, poking and prodding and pressing my belly and my insides like I was a science experiment, and whispering amongst themselves. This irritated me!
“I can’t hear you!” I shouted.
As the doctor examined me for the billionth time, she stated,
“It feels as though your cervix is tearing and the baby’s heart rate isn’t good. We may have to do a cesarean.”
“Just do one already and quit wasting time!” I yelled.
I was very scared and angry and half my body was numb while the other half was immobilized with pain. I just wanted it to be over. Within minutes, I was being wheeled into surgery. Because only part of my body was numb, the anesthesiologist felt it necessary to put me to sleep with a general anesthetic. My arms were strapped down; my eyes were taped shut, and an oxygen mask was placed over my face that pumped the “sleeping stuff” into my body. It seemed as though all of a sudden, everything was happening too quickly, but soon it would be all over.
“Am I going to fall asleep now?” I slurred.
“Very shortly,” the nurse said.
Benjamin Michael Charles was born at 3:51a.m., on a very snowy Friday in January. He left my body and entered the world with the umbilical cord twice wrapped tightly around his tiny, fragile neck. Initially, Benjamin’s APGAR, which is a basic sensory and reflex test given to newborns, was very low. He wasn’t responding to his new life or breathing properly. He gasped for air as if there were none, but after an hour or so, Benjamin adjusted quite well and his second APGAR scored normally.
As the nurse wheeled me from recovery down the hall to my room, the bed stopped as another nurse rushed to me to place my new baby on my chest. It was the very first moments shared between my baby and me. Never before had I seen anything so perfect. He lay swaddled in a soft, white blanket as his wide eyes peered at my face. He looked as if to say, “I know you.”
With my eyes swelling with tears, I looked up at my husband and Katie, who stuck by me through the whole traumatic, exasperating, but fulfilling event, and whispered as my tears broke the words,
“I have
a baby.”
Entrusted to me, to care for, to love
A good and perfect gift from above
A relationship created one to another
By God's favor, I became "mother".
A void had been filled, a place I had yearning
And joy in the newness coupled with learning,
Gave way to a journey destined by grace
Forever imprinted ... never to erase.
You captured us all for you were the first
Every moment brand new, nothing rehearsed.
Eager to learn right from the start
So full of wonder and gentle at heart.
Careful and caring, always sincere
Early on even in your youngest of years
Risk-taking was slim and troubling moments were few
From a mother's heart I truly thank you.
I couldn't stop time or prevent what must be
Each day is a year that becomes history.
I blinked and you weren't my baby anymore
I turned 'round and you had passed through the door.
Out into the world with its grandeur to see
Where choices are endless and opinion is free.
In my mind as far as I can reach
To all the things I've tried to teach,
Far in my memory, in all my thoughts
I can't recall anything I've taught
That could carry you through your life more than this
You are not your own ... for you are His.
Mistakes you will make and at times you will fail
But with God as your guide you'll always prevail.
Your journey is marked and paved is the way;
Directions are available whenever you pray.
In all that you plan and all that you do
Keep the LORD first and He will bless you.
As I am blessed, by your life I've been touched;
Remember who you are ... I love you ... too much.
c. Kimberly Prendergast, June 16, 2011
No comments:
Post a Comment