My Painful Stories [part four]

It's been a long while since I wrote the last section of this series. So I figured, while I had a few minutes, I would pick it up where I left off. You can read parts ONE, TWO and THREE by following the links or locating them in the month of April in my archive. They provide a lot of back story to what I am about to write and to who I am today.

Remember, we've met depressed, cutter, anorexic Christine. We've also said good-bye to her. And My Painful Stories [part three] introduced you to teen mom Christine. But I never finished telling you about my experience as a teen mom. So, here we go.


I left off the morning my water broke. I had been enduring contractions that were 7 minutes apart for 26 days at that point and I could not have been happier when I woke up, sat up, and felt my water break!

I was ready to have my baby!

 

So, I get up, take a quick shower (well, as quick as a full term pregnant woman can manage), enjoyed a delicious breakfast and hopped in the car to head to the hospital. Gramma and I made it there around 9:30, I called my mother-in-law on the way and attempted to call the Ex Husband. After all, it was his baby I was having and we were happily married at the time!

 

Well, it's 9:30, we roll up to the hospital, we go to admitting and I tell them my water broke. They admit me and I'm put in a bed in a room full of other people. Gee, thanks guys. It soon came to light that the reason I was put into this obviously occupied room where I would not under an circumstances be having my baby was that they didn't believe that my water had broken. I guess they wanted huge puddles on the floor to prove it or something? I'm not sure. Regardless, they did a test, said "oh, I guess you're right" and quickly found me my own delivery room.

 

What I didn't mention in all of that was that when my water broke, my contractions stopped. You know, the ones I'd been having continuously, every 7 minutes, for the last 26 days?

 

Yep, those just disappeared.

 

So I'm sitting here in this hospital bed, already uncomfortable because I'm pregnant, with a painful IV sticking out of my hand that they finally got in after trying about 4 other veins in both arms. Yes, when I tell you the only place you're going to get a good vein is my right hand, I'm telling the truth. I may have been young, but seriously. You doubted me once and I proved you wrong. Why try again?

 

Anyways. Nothing is happening at this point. Not a single thing. No contractions, no dilation, no progress at all. Doctor says let's start Pitocin. It wasn't what I had in mind, but it would help move everything along so I could finally see my baby and hold her in my arms. Alright, let's do this.

 

Well, about 8 hours later the doctor comes in, checks my progress and says I'm getting no where. Eight hours of Pitocin and I've made no progress. I have two choices. One: I can continue on the Pitocin and see if I make any progress over the next couple of hours. Two: I can go in for a C-Section to avoid any stress on my baby.

 

Obviously I'm going to go with choice number one. Who really wants to be sliced open from one side to the other at 16 years old? Even if you're older, who really wants to be sliced open from one side to the other? Umm, no one.

 

Except that not even half an hour later, the doctor comes in and tells me that my daughter's head is beginning to swell where she is trying to push out of me (think baby head trying to squeeze out of a space the size of a penny...) and she's having some distress. There's no more time to wait, I have to have a C-Section.

 

Listen here, buddy. I just dealt with you for an entire day and I'm tired of it. You did nothing but push drugs on me, wasted time trying to convince me to use them and did everything you could not to talk to me because I was a minor. I don't care if you think I shouldn't be having a baby or be married, I am and you'll treat me with respect. I don't care if you think I should have had an epidural the second I walked in the door, I didn't want it. And I just survived eight hours of Pitocin induced contractions with NO pain medication or relief. I don't want to hear it!

 

Ok, let's do the C-Section...

 

You better bet I had a couple conditions for this C-Section, though! One, I got time to call my husband first. And two, the nurse that had been with me all day (God bless Gina!) was not allowed to go home, even if it was shift change.

 

Well, the first condition, looking back on it, I probably would have been better off not doing. Why? Because my husband was out at the bowling alley, getting drunk with his friends while I was the entire country away, about to undergo major abdominal surgery to have our child. Awesome.

 

I got my way with the second condition and Gina stayed with me. She was a fantastic nurse and the only staff member of that hospital that actually treated me like a person. I am so thankful that I was able to have her there with me.

 

Anways...I was wheeled into the Operating Room at 7, numb by 7:10, and heard my baby girl cry at 7:22pm. She had all ten fingers and all ten toes, a great set of lungs and she was beautiful. My Gramma was in the OR with me, we got to see my beautiful daughter for about three seconds and then they whisked her away.

 

I didn't know it at the time, but it was a very good thing they whisked her away. My wonderful nurse (yay Gina!) had figured out what was causing my hives and swelling and weight gain in the last couple months of my pregnancy. She connected the dots and determined that my blood type was incompatible with the Ex Husband's blood type, but that his was dominant and therefore my baby likely had his blood type. Basically? I was allergic to my own daughter.

 

So she had to have her blood typed and checked for antigens to make sure that she didn't need a blood transfusion.

 

Valid reason to take my newborn.

 

I finally made it into recovery around 8pm and they brought my baby to me just a few minutes later. She was gorgeous! And I was so happy! I was able to call the Ex Husband at that point and talk to him about our baby girl, but I only ended up angry after that call. He was out "celebrating" and he had been all evening. So while I was enduring contractions and then being sliced open across my stomach, he was out bowling and getting drunk. Gee, thanks.

 

The doctors said that I would be able to go back to my room once the spinal tap had worn off enough that I could wiggle my toes. Ok, not a big deal. Except that after three hours in recovery, I still couldn't feel my toes on my right foot. I could wiggle my toes on my left foot. I could move both ankles and bend both knees. But my right toes just didn't want to come back to me. They ended up letting me go back to my room anyways, which was a good thing because my right toes were the last place I ended up getting feeling back. I could have been there for a while!

 

So it's now 11-something at night, I finally make it back to my room and I'm exhausted. But my father-in-law has come to meet the baby and brought my sisters-in-law, too. One of the girls was too young to be allowed onto the Labor and Delivery floor, so she couldn't meet KBug, but the older one could. So no sleep for me until they left.

 

But then when they left, KBug needed to be seen by the pediatrician. Well, the pediatrician stuck his finger I her mouth and she wouldn't let it go. So he gave her a pacifier. Without asking. I wasn't planning to give her one, but oh well. Pediatrician said she was good to go, healthy as can be!

 

Alright, now we can sleep. Except the baby is hungry and we are trying to work together and figure out this whole breastfeeding thing. Let me tell you, that is an experience. Especially with a baby who was already stubborn and strong-willed at only a few hours old. Oh my heavens. We eventually figured it out, though, and KBug got to eat.

 

But then he hospital staff came to take her picture. Sure, why not!? It's only 3 in the morning. No big deal. Have at it. KBug is wide awake anyways! So she had her picture taken. At 3am. Wide awake. Looking beautiful.

 

And then it was time to sleep. We finally managed a few hours before the endless stream of visitors came. I swear they never stopped flowing in and out of the room. And I was so tired and so hopped up on drugs that I only remember bits and pieces. I was later told that I kept falling asleep mid-sentence. And to this day I still feel bad about that.

 

Because I had a C-Section, I had to stay in the hospital for three days. Seriously? Just send me home. Anyways. So I put in my three days time and on the third morning the doctor came in and asked me if I wanted to go home or stay another day. She said that she wanted to keep me for observation another day to make sure my skin kept clearing up, but that I could go home if I wanted to.

 

I was out that door as fast as I could be!

 

And there's so much more to write about being a teen mom. But my experience is intertwined with the next part of my life that I wish to write about. So you'll have to read about that next time I pluck up the courage to write about My Painful Stories.