I still remember vividly the morning I went into labor. At about 5 am on January 7, 2011 I got up to use the restroom and realized that my water broke. I went into the guest room where Chris was sleeping (my pregnancy snoring had become unbearable for him) and calmly told him, "It's time to go!" Our hospital bags had been packed already so we did not scramble that much on the way to the hospital. I still recall sitting in the front seat of my car, amniotic fluid continuing to leak out. We had called the hospital to inform them that we were on our way and called our parents to tell them that Jake was coming. Chris dropped me off at the hospital entrance and I walked to the maternity ward. I was admitted immediately and it seemed like I was asked a thousand questions, for which I was not in the mood. We pre-registered beforehand but there was still a lot of paperwork that needed to be completed. I remember getting extremely irritated and almost hostile to the admitting nurse, Helen, because the last thing I wanted was to be bombarded with questions. Funny, I don't remember now the feeling of being in labor...I know it was not pleasant but that's about it. I remember getting the epidural relatively early (3 or 4 cm I believe) and being in heaven after that.
As the day progressed, the nurses kept checking on me and we all thought I would have Jake by lunch time. I got a fever somehow and had the chills the whole day. I kept passing BM's too...I must have eliminated everything that I ate for the past two days! My OB-GYN arrived in the early afternoon and I remember she reached in to "turn" Jake and more water came out of me. By 6:00 pm I was 9.5 cm dilated so it was decided that it was time for me to push. So I pushed. And pushed. For 15 minutes...30...45...60. No Jake. I was turned sideways and pushed. Still nothing. By 7:15 pm or so I began to lose hope that my son was going to be delivered the normal way. I remember the nurses and doctor leaving me, Chris, and my mom in the delivery room BY OURSELVES in the middle of me pushing. By 8:00 pm it was pretty clear that I was going to have to have a C-section. I cried. It wasn't the way things were supposed to be. A C-section was the last thing I wanted. I had endured many things in my life, gotten everything I wanted in life at that point, so to have a C-section made me feel like a quitter. And not even by choice. I was devastated, but what could I do- I wanted my baby to be safe. I know now to choose wisely when it comes to hospitals and labor and delivery staff.
It wasn't until 9:00 pm that I was taken to the operating room. The operating staff had to be paged so none of them arrived until that time. I remember lying on that operating table. Them telling me that I was going to feel a lot of tugging. I remember having the oxygen mask on me and seriously feeling like I was going to run out of air and die. It was the scariest feeling for me to kind of hear what was going on around me but be paralyzed from the neck down. I was cold and shivering inside. My thumbs kept twitching. I was sure that they would see me and help me, but I kept shivering and feeling like I was running out of air. All the while I kept thinking in my head, "This is terrible...this is not the way I wanted it to be...we are not having our second child here..." But most importantly, I just wanted to hear my baby cry. To know that he was OK. But I never heard his cry. I was in and out of consciousness and I remember Chris crying and saying "Our baby is so beautiful" in my ear. I learned later that Jake came out blue and unresponsive. He had started to swallow his meconium because he was in distress, after all that pushing and time waiting for the C-section to begin. I remember being in the recovery room and Chris going in there to explain what was happening. Our baby was going to be taken to Queen of the Valley NICU. I was going to stay at San Dimas Hospital. I briefly saw Jake before he was taken away in the ambulance. I was so drugged up that I couldn't even get my eyes to focus. "Focus!" I told my eyes, "Look at your son!" And then, he was gone.
I didn't really know how to feel. I will never forget the faces of my good friends, Jen, Kim, Brian, and Kristin, in the hallway as I was wheeled back into my hospital room. I waved hello to them and expressed how happy and grateful I was to see them as I rolled by on the bed, in my drugged state. I remember seeing my brother Joe's face as I was wheeled into the operating room an hour before that. Our parents were there, waiting for their first/ninth grandson to arrive. Little did they know that was going to be one of the scariest nights of their lives...the thought of losing me or the baby. And of course, my poor husband had to go through it all...seeing me on the operating table, half awake and complaining of pain...his first born son blue and unresponsive...having to notify my parents and everyone who was in the lobby what was happening...
It was not the ideal birth story. I did not want to talk to nor see anybody that entire weekend. I did not care to announce Jake's birth because HE WAS NOT THERE. I did not get to experience holding him and learning to nurse him and bathe him in the hospital. It was horrible. There are so many other details that go into this story but I cannot possibly include them all. So many emotions were felt that weekend while I was in the hospital: relief, anger, disappointment. So many questions: why did we choose that hospital, etc. etc. The reality is that it is easier to point fingers when things go wrong. I gave birth at that hospital because that was where my OB-Gyn, who I had been seeing for two years, was designated to deliver. We knew that they did not have a NICU. We did not know that we would need a NICU (who does???) The only thing we can do is to hopefully do things differently the next time around. And when will that be, you ask. When I feel ready. That's when. When I know where I am going to be next year. When I feel that the addition of a second child will not break me. When I get my doctorate. When I get a job. When the time is right. I really cannot say when. All I know is that I enjoy having only my one-year-old son right now.
Jake has been a strong boy from the beginning of his life. He has grown up to be such a good and easygoing baby. He rarely cries, though he has his moments when he throws little tantrums. I cannot believe how fast the past year went by. When I first met Jake, four days after his birth, I was worried that we would not have a strong bond. But now, our bond could not be stronger. He is my little best friend. We go everywhere together. I love taking him to the store. My favorite memory is when I went to the zoo with Jake on my 30th birthday. I did not feel too connected with him in the beginning, probably because he was in the NICU for 10 days while Chris and I were at home. We visited him twice a day for those ten days and made a promise to not let his birth affect our happiness. We finally got to take him home on January 16, 2011 and I remember feeling so excited but also scared. We were on our own as new parents! But we have come a long way since then. If you think about it, parenting is 75% common sense and 25% experience. Being a new parent does not make one an idiot. If you ask me, I think Chris and I have done a hell of a job with our first son!
This is the end of Jake's birth story and the beginning of many, many more chapters of his life...
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