Nursing a 12 month old is an interesting ordeal. I've never breastfed this long, so I wasn't really sure what to expect. Let's just say that Jayden is not at all shy about what he wants or when he wants it. He likes to pull my shirt up regardless of who is around. I'm so concerned about my upcoming surgery and how he is going to react to us being separated for an entire day (or more) and night. I'm even more-so concerned by the possible procedure I may have to have later on, which according to my endocrinologist is going to end my nursing days and put me in isolation. I'm very upset by this...
But let's continue.
My pregnancy was uneventful until around 14 weeks when I started waking up with the worst cotton mouth ever in the middle of the night. I was also experiencing bouts of hypoglycemia during the day at work and I'd have to stop what I was doing and immediately run for food, juice or what have you to bring my sugar back to normal range. It was dipping down to around 50 on a daily basis, although I was eating pretty regularly. I knew that these were signs of Gestational Diabetes, so when I went to my next appointment, labs were done and I failed miserably. I begun a special low carb diet and had to monitor my blood sugar five times a day. This worked well until about two weeks later, when my body became more insulin resistant and the foods that had previously kept my sugar levels normal the two weeks previous were causing my blood sugar to spike 55 points above where it was supposed to be. At that time, I was moved from the midwife practice to the high risk OB/Gyn clinic and placed on Insulin twice a day for the remainder of my pregnancy. The first insulin dosage they gave me was way too high, and my sugar dipped dangerously low one day while I was driving. It was really scary and I almost passed out. Thank god for McDonald's coke and chocolate chip cookies to boost your blood sugar with a quickness..
I wasn't planning on finding out the sex of the baby. I was perfectly content with not knowing and being surprised. My husband, however, was not. So we argued. and argued. and argued even up until the ultrasound was being performed as to whether or not we should "shake the present" and find out what's inside. I finally caved. I caved when she asked if we wanted to know the sex, because as she was scanning and I was looking, I thought I saw something a little unusual and I wanted to confirm if my suspicions were right. And they were. On the screen was a big set of feet and boy parts. BOY PARTS. I had a BOY growing in my womb. I didn't think it was possible for my husband and I to create a boy after all these girls.. but we finally did. I was absolutely elated. I couldn't wait to meet my son. All the while though, it sort of seemed like the pregnancy wasn't real. I knew it was real because I was growing and he was growing, and I saw images of him growing inside of me, but because of events that I hadn't really mentally processed a few months earlier, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I wanted to hold my son, but I was having a hard time accepting that this thing growing inside of me was real. It's hard to grasp these thoughts now, looking back, but I almost felt like my body was setting me up for a cruel trick, and that the end result wasn't going to be my son. I'm sure by now, you all think I'm bat shit nuts. It's ok, sometimes I wonder myself...
Once the Gestational Diabetes was diagnosed, the number of appointments I had to attend increased dramatically. There was testing and more testing and endocrinologist appointments and high risk OB/GYN appointments and nutritionist appointments and non stress test appointments. My god it was non stop, for months. And part of me was worried about the baby I was carrying, while another part of me was in denial that I was carrying a baby. It was really sort of weird and scary at the same time. All of my ultrasounds indicated that the boy I was carrying was going to be very large, and there was some concern about his size. In fact around 36 weeks, they estimated his weight just shy of 8 pounds. There was discussion of scheduling a c-section which I vetoed, and then the insistence of inducing at 39 weeks because of the diabetes, which I agreed to, but felt that if history repeated itself, I wouldn't have to wait that long anyhow. At the end of the appointment the nutritionist came in and lectured me on my weight gain for the pregnancy. They had wanted me to gain 15-20 lbs, and at 38 weeks, I was only at 12.2 lbs. It wasn't like I wasn't eating.. I had a craving for meat like I've never experienced in my life. I probably consumed two whole cows on my own during those nine months.. but she felt it appropriate to lecture me and encouraged me to gain another 3 pounds before my induction. Makes no sense to me, either. I know...
So I ran to the bathroom to try to clean myself up a bit, all while shaking and dialing the hospital. And by the way, if you've never had a baby, cleaning yourself up after your water breaks, is pretty pointless. Because as soon as you think you're in the clear, your body reproduces more amniotic fluid and the gushing continues. All in all it was pretty gross. But I had to somehow regain composure and get myself together and get to the hospital. I should mention here that my second born daughter arrived fast and furious, and it was snowing like hell outside, the worst snow storm of the season. So I had to step back for a minute and time my contractions and figure out basically if I thought we'd make it to the hospital in time with all this snow or if we should stay put. It was an interesting few moment and my husband thought I was in the bathroom putting on make up and started yelling at me to hurry the hell up, because he was thinking about not wanting to deliver his son on the side of the highway.
Things progressed quickly and my niece met us at the hospital. Eventually the labor excitement/high subsided and the worst back labor ever began. After a lot of pressure from the anesthesiologist, I caved and got an epidural since I was at high risk for a c-section. Sweet jesus that epidural insertion was by far the worst pain I've ever experienced in my back. So I'm sobbing and crying and this girl trying to insert this catheter into my back thinks I'm over reacting and just keeps going and I really think somewhere along the line she screwed up, but either way, sweet relief was met within minutes.
And shortly thereafter, my sons heart rate started to dip after contractions. I noticed it immediately and was told it was normal, because it wasn't dipping super low. I progressed quickly and soon thereafter it was time to start pushing. After that, everything sort of gets blurry. His heart rate dropped even more with each push and contraction, I was rolled to one side, then the other, there was an oxygen mask, a lot of confusion and within minutes my iv bag was thrown into my lap and I was being wheeled to the O.R. I have never been so scared in my entire life.
I recognized immediately the two High Risk OB/Gyns in the O.R. One had delivered my best friends baby back in August by emergency C-Section. The other was the first high risk OB/GYN I had seen since being removed from the midwife group. There were tons of people in the O.R. and machines, and beeping and face masks and no one would tell me what the hell was going on, but I already knew. I had to move my body from the gurney to the OR table, which was incredibly difficult considering I was numb from the waist down and I was strapped down and hooked up to the EKG and I couldn't find my husband. I was in a room full of mostly strangers and I was scared to death and I just remember asking over and over again if my baby was ok, please get him out now, please just tell me if he's ok. I had another contraction and I pushed as hard as I can all while the two docs on the south end pulled as hard as they could and my son was born. Only I didn't realize he was born. I even heard a baby crying across the room but I didn't immediately realize that was *my son*. I thought he was someone elses baby in another room. I finally started to regain composure and saw my husband and saw this screaming baby on the scale and realized it was my son, and he was alive, and ok, and screaming, and I just put my hand to my head and tried to breathe. My husband kept telling the nurse he didn't want to hold him first, that he wanted me to and I kept telling him to just grab the baby and I remember I was just shaking so hard. It turns out, my sons cord was being compressed, and he had it wrapped over his shoulder and under his armpit like a purse, and this was causing his heart rate to drop during the delivery. I feel very fortunate that the nurses acted on this almost immediately, and the end result turned out ok, albeit Jayden was born with critically low blood sugar, around 24. I'll have to post a picture later, of us immediately after his birth. I'm pale white and my hand is on my head, and Jayden is purple. It was both the scariest day of my life and one of the most joyous..
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