Genevieve Rose: A Story of Triumph Over Birth Trauma

The morning of December 23rd was filled with excitement and anticipation as Mark and I drove to the hospital to be induced with our second child. It was going to be quite exciting, not only because we'd be welcoming a new member to our family, but also because we did not know the sex of the baby.
We would be joined by my sister and our doula as well, which made it even more special, as my sister had never witnessed a birth and was unable to be there when our first daughter was born.
Upon arriving at the hospital, I was filled with a sense of calm and peace as we awaited the impending induction. I knew what to expect, as I had been induced with Hayden as well. This was great because I was not scared at all and was very ready to welcome my second child into the world. The induction began around 8:30, when Dr. Rasmussen came in to break my bag of waters. This was a VERY painful process, and it seemed that my baby was just maybe not as ready to enter the world as I was ready to welcome her. She then left, and I asked for some time to see if contractions started on their own. After an hour, the contractions did not start, and so the nurse came in and started the minimum dose of pitocin. I was then left for 2 hours, after which the nurse consulted with Dr. Rasmussen, and it was decided that we would start increasing the pitocin until I was "uncomfortable." I was happy about this because I was ready to get to the real "meat and potatoes" of labor, as I referred to it. I stayed in complete control of my body and relaxed by way of vocal toning and meditation. Mark stayed by my side, well so-to-speak, and rubbed my back and played with my hair in just the right way for almost the entire time. My sister gave me a great massage at just the right point in time, and after a great suggestion by my doula, I even had some jell-o! The entire morning and into the early afternoon were fantastic and filled with smiles and joy as we listened to Jason Mraz guide us through this labor.
The late afternoon is when things started sliding downhill, and the contractions started to become very painful to the point where I could hardly breathe through them, let alone actually take a deep breath in order to fill my body with the oxygen needed to get through the next one. Everyone around me kept telling me I needed to breathe, and I physically could not. I started to cry and actually scream through some of the contractions...I told Mark that I needed a break and that we needed to stop the pitocin in order to give me a chance to get the necessary oxygen my body needed to keep going and to finish the labor. We consulted with the nurse about this, and she agreed to call Dr. Rasmussen and ask her what we could do.
Meanwhile, I kept crying and feeling more pain than I could possibly imagine. I cried to Mark and told him that I felt like a failure because I was *thinking* about an epidural, which was not even considered in our birth plan. I am deathly afraid of anesthesia and needles and know in my heart that it is not a good choice for either me or the baby. However, I just did not think my body could continue in its weak state without some kind of relief from this intense and horrifying pain. The nurse returned with the proposition of a compromise: rather than turning the pitocin up 2 every 20 minutes, we would turn it down 1 every 20 minutes. We would continue this as long as my contractions stayed strong and consistent. I agreed to this compromise because I was confident that my body could labor on its own without the pitocin now that we were so far into my labor. The contractions continued to be very painful and very intense, still to the point of my having trouble breathing.
Dr. Rasmussen would return at 5:30pm to check on my progress. At 5:20pm, I told Mark that I could not do it any longer, that my body was to weak to continue and that the only way I could finish would be with an epidural, my absolute worst nightmare. Susan (my doula) looked at me and said, "just one more contraction, Sabrina. You can do this. Chelsey (Dr. Rasmussen) will be here after that. Just one more." So just one more is what I agreed to, and I told Mark that if I was not fully dilated when Dr. Rasmussen came to check on me that I would absolutely HAVE to have an epidural. The tears continued to stream down my face as I sat on the birth ball, and I felt defeated. However, as 5:30 came and went and Dr. Rasmussen came in at 5:35pm, I rose off the ball and into the bed to have my cervix checked and a wave came over me. It was time to push! I suppose I did not need an epidural after all, and my child was ready to enter the world!
She checked me at 5:40pm, and I was fully dilated and ready to push. I pushed for only 9 minutes before our beautiful daughter entered this world at 5:49pm on December 23, 2010. Mark shouted, "It's a girl, babe!" in the most excited tone that one could possibly imagine, and I said, "really?!" He said yes, that it was indeed a girl, and I said, "Her name is Genevieve Rose" with tears in my eyes for so many reasons, but mainly joyous tears because she was finally here.
After things settled down a bit, our nurse returned to our room and took a post-it note off of the machine my IV was attached to and said, "See? We were turning the pitocin up the entire time. It was just a 'mind over matter thing.' I knew you didn't really need a break." At that point, my heart began breaking into pieces. Not only had I endured the most pain I could never imagine in my life, but I was lied to by medical personnel, the very people who I trusted most to make this experience as best as possible given the circumstances. I didn't even have words to express how betrayed I felt. That said, I decided to put those feelings aside momentarily and enjoy those first moments with my new daughter and husband.
We left the hospital on Christmas Eve, just 24 hours after having Genevieve and returned home to spend Christmas Day as a family of 4, instead of a family of 3.
I took a lot of anger with me as we left, and I just didn't know how to deal with it. I didn't understand why I was lied to, especially by a medical professional, and I didn't understand why they could not honor my request when the baby was not in danger, and I physically could not breathe because the contractions were so intensely painful. I felt that Genevieve's birth was scarred because of the pain I endured so unnecessarily...
A few days later, I was still crying a lot when I thought about the labor, and I was taking my anger out on Mark. I just couldn't help it...I was still in a lot of pain down below where I tore, and so I called my doctor to ask for a refill on my pain medication because I was still taking it every four hours like clockwork. After 3 and a half hours, I would start to feel a pinching pain where my stitches were with every move I made. Dr. Rasmussen said she could not imagine why I was feeling so much pain and reluctantly agreed to call in 10 more pain pills for me and requested that I come in the next day to get checked out. On that day, I also spoke to the nurse and poured my heart out about how I felt about my labor and that I felt betrayed by the medical team and was having a very difficult time getting past what happened. Mark expressed concern to her about post-partum depression, as did I, since depression runs in my family.
I got out of the shower on that evening and was patting myself dry when I started gushing blood...Mark was very worried and told me to call Dr. Rasmussen. She suggested that I go to the ER, and so that's what we did. They checked out the stitches and found they were still in tact but still wanted me to follow up with Dr. Rasmussen the following day. The consensus is that my skin may have torn around one of the stitches.
The next day was my birthday, and I did not want to deal with such negativity on my birthday, but a good friend told me that I needed to in order to be able to move forward from what happened. I would need to confront my doctor and ask her why I was lied to and why they could not honor my request to stop the pitocin even temporarily. The appointment did not go well at all. Dr. Rasmussen visually checked my stitches and said that everything looked great and was healing properly. She said she still did not understand why I was feeling so much pain being that it was a "minor repair" and that no infection was present. She pulled the sheet over me and rolled her chair to my side. It was then that I started to break down...I told her that combined with the pain and how betrayed I felt about the pitocin lie that I was very concerned about post-partum depression. She practically ignored my comment and went into a defense about the fact that once pitocin is started, it is not stopped and will continue to increase until the baby comes. She told me she felt she does a great job of educating her patients on what to expect and that she had done so with me as well. She had told me that it would take longer to deliver Genevieve because she was considerably larger than Hayden was, that I should expect both a longer labor AND a longer pushing stage. She then backtracked that statement by saying that 2nd babies generally come by 3 or 4 in the afternoon with an induction and that almost 6pm WAS later. She then told me that our labor nurse had told HER that she was VERY UNCOMFORTABLE lying to me about how much pitocin I was being given and that I needed to take up that concern with Mark, as the nurse had told Dr. Rasmussen that it was MARK who came up with this idea to lie to me. I just smiled big (almost laughed) and told her that I would not debate it with her and that it was not worth it to me.
We went back to talking about the fact that I was still having pain, and she said she wanted to "check one more thing" before I left, and she pulled the sheet back and began PUSHING on my stitches asking if one hurt more than another. I started to cry as she pushed on the first one and screamed in pain. She pushed on the second one, which I did not feel any pain. She went back to the first stitch several times, making me cry out in pain each time before she offered to "snip" the first stitch. The stitch was too tight, which is why I was/am in so much pain. She said that I might be "more comfortable" if she did that, but that I would not heal anatomically correct if she did so...I told her that is not what I wanted and that I would be fine as long as she allowed me more pain medication. She wrote the script, and I left her office with more clarity than I could have imagined.
After my confrontation with her, I decided that I knew where to place my anger and that I could put it in a box on a shelf and leave it there. I will NOT go back to her for my post-partum visit, as I feel I cannot trust her.
I am choosing now to let go of the trauma and to move forward with the memories from the early part of my labor when things were calm and peaceful and joyous. I love my daughter, and I feel truly blessed that she is happy and healthy.

Photoshop For Life

So one of my good friends is learning Photoshop. It's a great thing, you know? She took a photo of her kids on their sofa and made it look brand new. This is FANTASTIC! She said she could do the same for me, which I think is great since there are milk stains all over it...among other things.

At any rate, this really got me thinking. I thought, you know, that would be GREAT if you could photoshop my sofa in real life. I mean, it's great that you can do that in a picture and everything, but this stain remover crap just isn't cutting it, and neither is my steamvac. What we really need is Photoshop for Life.

For example, there are all kinds of things that we wish we could go back and "edit," if you will. Let's take my first marriage! I would absolutely LOVE to just photoshop my ex husband right out of my life and insert my amazing husband in his place. This way I wouldn't feel like our AWESOME Vegas wedding at Mandalay Bay wasn't such a waste.

OOoh, and for the birth of my daughter, if I could just go back and photoshop that one crazy family member right out, that would be fantastic also. I would replace her with my sister, who I know wanted to be there desperately. This way I don't have to explain anything when we're remembering those very special moments. AND there wouldn't BE any photos that needed "shopping."

Also my high school graduation...I know that my dad and I weren't on good terms and that I told him not to come, BUT I know he really wanted to be there, so I'd photoshop him back in there. And while we're there, I might as well photoshop my sleaze of an ex boyfriend who flew up from Arizona to be there right OUT. So that's a good swap, right? Dad for the ex boyfriend?

And on smaller, less important things, I'd probably photoshop all of my baking attempts OUT of my life and replace them with excellent meals that I've cooked instead. Either that or those no-bake desserts that come in a box. Maybe brownies because I can usually get those right.

At any rate, I'm wondering if anyone else out there feels that Photoshop for Life would be a great product...If so, please contact me so we can get started on a patent.

Til next time...

Prenatal Visit 11/11 +More Stuff

Okay, folks! Here's the update! What a whacko day it was yesterday...but anyway. The ultrasound is showing *mystery sex* baby to be about 5 lbs 10 oz at the present moment, body measuring about 34 weeks (as I predict is the case), with the head measuring about 36 or 37 weeks. So, the baby still has a big head...no surprise there! My fluid level has actually gone down a smidge, which means no need for maternal/fetal. Can you say "awesome"?! Dodged a bullet there for sure. Doc would like me to do the 1 hour glucose screen to be "thorough" regarding GD, but after talking to hubby about it, we're not going for it. My fasting blood sugar was PERFECT, according to doc. Not to mention that the baby is measuring right on target as far as size, except for the head being on the big side, and my fluid level went down. Keep in mind the 1 hour glucose screen is only 30-50% accurate, and we pay out of pocket for it, and well, I think people might understand why we're opting not to do it. My blood pressure is still perfect, but that is no surprise. I'm just waiting for that big humungo jump @ around 37-38 weeks...so we'll see if better nutrition pays off or not. Also, I am still measuring big, now measuring "term," which is "why you feel so miserable, and why people are being rude out in public," according to Doc. Ha!

Never fails that we went to Olive Garden for dinner after the marathon appointment (there is a MAJOR reason why I used to schedule the first a.m. appointments), and some old Italian bat came up to our table, while we were eating no less, and told me I look like I'm about to go any day now. When I replied with, "actually, I have about 6 weeks left," she assumed that I must be having twins. At that point, I shovelled a bunch of salad in my mouth, gave my hubby a dirty look and let him finish up with her before I got nasty.

What else happened yesterday? Well, let me see, the woman-who-shall-remain-nameless (WWSRN) reared her ugly head again. I've now banned her from coming down anytime around the birth of Baby #2. We have apparently now been brushed aside for a baby shower for her husband's nephew's wife...Interesting.

Oh, and after zero contact with a "friend" of mine for nearly a month, and after she previously blew off my girls' night just hours before it started, I received a text asking for a hook-up--the number of a friend of mine who fixes computers. Say whaaaaa?! No response to my concerns regarding the girls' night incident, and a late night (okay not like LATE late, but 9pm) text asking for a favor? I laughed about it and just wondered exactly what the right thing to do was...so I am ignoring it for the moment. I must say though, ballsy move!

And going back to the Olive Garden for a moment, I must say that we had a ridiculously awful experience! And I'd normally be the first to complain to a manager and get half off our meal, but I didn't. I'll be regretting that one for sure, especially since it wasn't a cheap meal. Anyway, I always thought that in order to work there as a server, you had to have stellar experience in the service industry. Apparently I am absolutely WRONG in that, or else they've completely lowered their standards. It started off with some random Hispanic guy coming to our table, telling us that James would be our server and asking us, "would you like to try this wine?" Ummmmmmmm, what is this wine??? So we declined, and he immediately departed our table. A couple minutes later, "James" came to our table and said that he understands that so-and-so started us off with drinks, to which I quickly replied, "no one has gotten us drinks." He looked really confused, looked around, and said, "Okay, well, what can I get for you guys then?" After that, he NEVER REFILLED OUR DRINKS! I don't even think he looked at them, to be honest. We asked for a 2nd round of salad, which he brought out with our meal? He didn't check back with us until halfway through our main dishes, and then we had to steal a dessert menu from another table! He didn't ask us if we'd like a cappuccino with dessert, let alone a refill on the empty cokes on the table. He didn't pre-bus at all, and our table was scattered with dishes the entire time. UGH. It was bad enough that my hubby said he wouldn't have tipped AT ALL, and we were both servers. I tipped 10%. And I put our empty glasses on top of the folder with the check in it. Wowza. So if you go to the Olive Garden at Castleton anytime in the near future, just make sure that JAMES is not servicing your table, or you might be sorely disappointed with your experience.

I think that's about it for my weirdo day yesterday...Man, was I ever glad to shut my eyes and get that one over with! Here's to a much better (and less weird) day today!

Til next time...

No More Checks...No More Bills?

So I got to thinking this morning when I pulled out the check book to pay bills, and we only had one check left. What did I think exactly? Well, a few things:
1. Shit! I totally forgot to order checks when I said we needed to, like a month ago.
2. Who gets paid? I mean, we've only got ONE check, so I guess I really need to prioritize who gets it!
3. If I have no more checks, is that not the BEST excuse in the world NOT to pay bills?

I mean, let's say the power company calls. Or sends me some beautiful pink notice in the mail. Either way, I converse with them and just say, "look, I totally understand that we need to pay this bill, but the thing is, you guys don't have that lovely little space on the payment coupon for me to input my credit card information, and I'm out of checks!" I mean, what will they say back exactly? Oh wait, here it is: "That is truly unfortunate, Mrs. S. However, since you are using our services, you are required to pay for them each month. I realize that we practically live in the dark ages of technology over here at IPL, but I can happily transfer you to our phone payment courtesy line. There is just a $10 (or whatever the charge is) convenience fee for making a payment this way."

Okay, hold up just ONE minute. What is so "convenient" about IPL charging me extra to pay my bill?? That doesn't seem very convenient at all. Shouldn't it be called an INconvenience fee? I mean, its obviously inconvenient for me to pay it, and it is also apparently inconvenient for them to take a payment via phone, or heaven forbid they move out of the dark ages and offer online payments! Come on, utility companies!

So yes, the war for the last check has begun. Almost everyone has some form of alternative payment system, everyone but my vehicle finance company and IPL. So maybe everyone could cross their fingers that the checks I finally ordered this morning come in before my next car payment is due? Thanks, I'd appreciate it...and I'm pretty sure the finance company would as well. I wouldn't want them to be inconvenienced by my lack of checks.

Til next time...

*Almost* Tragic...

So, I pretty much hate doctors, no offense to any of my doctor friends. It's totally not your fault. I just have terrible luck when it comes to them. I can never be 100% normal, no questions asked. There has to be some question as to whether or not I'm normal. I'm always bordering normal and tragedy it seems.

Let's take this pregnancy, for instance. In the beginning, my blood test results came back, and they showed that my progesterone was low. Now, it wasn't tragically low, but it was low enough for my loving OB to put me on some wacky ass medication for it that completely jacked my system and made me feel drunk all the time. It was low enough to make my hubby and I worry that maybe this wasn't "it" and that we could lose the baby. So, after realizing that this medication was not going to be workable in our lives, we had resigned ourselves to the thought that this, indeed, may not be the time, and I called my doctor to let her know what was going on with the medication and that I just couldn't take it any longer. She had me come in to be retested, and BOOM. Magically, at that point, my levels were totally normal. Great!

Fast forward a couple days, and I'm having an asthma attack while on VACATION in Chicago...My rescue inhaler was doing nothing for me, and I had to ride that one out until I got back home. Then, I had to start taking a ridiculously expensive medication for asthma (which, thankfully, worked!) after having zero symptoms since high school. At the same time, I'm puking my pregnant guts out more times than I can count in a day...So I started Zofran for that...until I was NINETEEN weeks pregnant. Now, please allow me to point out that I don't view my asthmatic episodes or my morning sickness (I use the term lightly) as tragic at all. That's just icing on my almost tragic cake.

Now let's talk about yesterday. Yesterday I went for what was supposed to be a normal bi-weekly OB appointment, which turned out to be insane. I woke up late and had to rush out the door with enough time to brush my teeth, pee, throw on an outfit that didn't match, put on a hat, and grab an apple streudel. Forget the coffee, this was serious. So I roll into the parking lot and have to park a friggin mile away and magically make it to the office at exactly 8:45. Now for the "oopsies." Well, I weighed in (don't even ask) and realized I didn't have to pee since I already had 20 minutes ago at home! So fine, sometimes this happens. I just told the nurse I'd go at some point before leaving, which generally is no big deal. WELL, not today, folks! My bp was 144/70, so my OB wanted a sample to check for protein before seeing me. UGH. Fine. So I squeezed out what I could, set the cup on the edge of the sink, and knocked it in. Are you effing kidding me right now?! I could've cried. I called my hubby to calm me down, and he assured me that everything would be okay...well, sure it would, AFTER I drank a liter and a half of water and was able to produce said sample, which I did (who knows how many minutes later). And everything was perfectly fine. Apparently, rushing around in the morning and walking a mile isn't something an 8 months pregnant chick should do. Now, onto the measuring! I measured 35, and I am supposedly (according to my doctor) 31 weeks pregnant. According to me, I'm 32+, but apparently I don't count. Either way, that's still a big measurement, so she ordered an ultrasound to see what's going on in there. I went back yesterday afternoon for this ultrasound and got a call early in the evening from my doctor. Apparently I have an almost too high level of amniotic fluid, combined with a baby with a huge head. Going back to the amniotic fluid, my level is 24, and over 25 is too high. Who knew?! I had no idea that there was such a thing as too much amniotic fluid. I also had no idea that this could cause problems for me or baby! So now I get to play the waiting game for another couple of weeks before checking on the fluid level again...See? Almost tragic. It's not the end of the world, but it could be a big problem. If my fluid level goes above 25, she'll need to refer me to maternal fetal medicine, which would totally suck. I want my OB, not some stranger I don't know.

So I have my next ultrasound scheduled for November 11th...Let's hope all is well and that this was just another bump on my almost tragic road.

Til Next time...

Tryin' It On...

So we chose the names, one for if this baby is a girl and one if the baby is a boy. We were completely prepared...and THEN, I woke up one day and realized they weren't perfect. I equate this to trying on wedding gowns. It's the only thing that can even come close to naming your child. When you're trying on dresses, you just know. And this is 100% true. When you try on the gown that you want to look at yourself in photos in for the rest of your life, you just know it's right. It sounds lame, but whatever. So when you are choosing a name for your legacy, that is your child, it has to work the same way, right? I mean, sure, I come across names and think, "oh, that's cute..." But then there is just that one name that you just can't get out of your head, the one that you and your hubby look at each other and smile and say, "yep, that's the one!" So then what happens if you have that feeling that a name is "the one," and your hubby doesn't feel the same way? What do you do then? Do you go back to the list of "cutes" and just choose one on which you can both agree?

Well, for me, I had one name in mind for a girl that I just couldn't let go of, no matter how hard I tried. I honestly liked the name we had chosen, and so I was okay with it, but I just kept going back to the wedding dress theory. I'm going to call my child this name for the rest of forever. So I told my very patient and loving hubby that I wanted to think about different names...and he told me to let him know when I'd made a decision...He laughed about it, saying that he doesn't understand why I can't just stick with one and be done. And this comment totally got me thinking.

You see, it's totally different for guys. Girls are mean and judgmental, and if a girl has the wrong name, she's a stripper, or a librarian, or a nerd or what.ever. If a guy has the wrong name, well, nobody seems to care! And I mean, is there such a thing as the wrong name for a guy? I'm not even sure there is. So whatever the case, I told my dear husband that as long as I could choose the name if we have a girl, he can choose the name for a boy. And I honestly don't care if he chooses Captain, Buddy, Jeep, or whatever. It doesn't matter to me. And I am pretty excited now because this forces some major involvement on his part! So now, he gets to do some thinking and decision-making! Yipee! Victory for Mama!

Til Next time...

~*Mommy Magic*~

So it's already started off to be a great day. It's funny how life happens in waves like that, isn't it? Some days you are just aching for something exciting or interesting to happen, and then there are those moments of negativity that seem never-ending. Well, this morning, when I was jolted awake at 4:30 by my daughter's coughing fits, it became a positive moment that I never wanted to end.

You see, these moments with her are so very rare, that I really didn't care that it was 4:30 a.m. and that I was surely not getting back to sleep. I quietly told my husband (who was sleeping on the sofa himself so as not to disturb my sleep with HIS coughing fits) that I was going to go lay with her and asked him to get her some water. He obliged, of course, being the amazing man that he is, while I went and snuggled up next to my little one.

She was shivering when I walked in, despite being completely snuggled up in her blankets and plenty warm to the touch. As soon as I laid down with her, she immediately stopped shaking and deeply sighed. I could've cried right then (if I was a crier), but instead I just kissed the back of her head and put my arms around her. My husband came in shortly after with a drink for her, which she sipped on for a bit and then gave back to me. I set it down, and we snuggled back up in bed...She didn't cough from then on. She breathed deeply, though a little congested, and was completely content with my being next to her.

These are the moments we live for as parents. Well, at least that's what I believe. It's those small moments in time that we wish we could hold onto forever, you know? It's moments like these that I see the magic in life, the Mommy Magic- how somehow when Mommy kisses that boo-boo, it's all better, no matter how much it was hurting just moments before she kissed it. I think, as adults, we get so wrapped up in logic and how things work that sometimes we need these moments to make us realize that magic does exist.

So thank you to my beautiful daughter for giving me that gift this morning, even if it was before the rooster crows. Thanks for showing me what's really important in life and that I am just as magical as I've always thought my mommy was...

Til next time...