Alayna is Eight, part 1

Dear Blogger world, my baby is eight years old today!!!  I can't believe it.  And she starts Activity Days next week and she'll be baptized December 3.  She's not supposed to be so grown-up, is she?  Sigh, I know she is.  And I know she'll just keep growing up on me.  I love that little woman to pieces.

I have to do it...it's my right as a mom.  I'm going to share her birth story and the prelude to it, because I haven't blogged it yet (I don't know why I feel the need to blog it, yet I must.  So, stop reading now if you're not interested).

Her whole pregnancy was wonderful.  I graduated from BYU at 13 weeks gestation (shaking hands with then-Elder Eyring with Cheezit residue on my fingers from snacking during the ceremonies to curb nausea).  I was able to work off-and-on throughout the summer of 2003 helping out at the Cougareat.  My due date was November 4 (Election Day). 

One day in late September I over-did it a little at work.  We went to Derek's cousin's volleyball game that Friday evening and I was having regular contractions.  They weren't hurting, but my tummy was Braxton-Hicks-ing like mad.  We had a delivery class at the hospital the next morning, so I decided to sleep on it and go to the hospital early before the class and be monitored, be told everything was okay, then go to the class.

When I woke up the next morning I decided to take a bath and I was so woozy and light-headed.  Derek took me to Timpanogos Regional with wet hair and I told them my complaints.  I was 34 weeks.  The machines registered regular yet faint contractions and tests were done to determine if I was in labor or if my body was just practicing.  It was just practicing, so after 8 hours of monitoring and dosages of labor-retarding medications and they sent me home on bed-rest.  Derek and I went to my parents' house in Alpine to watch a certain football game on their big screen, and I was religious in drinking and peeing regularly and staying off my feet.

I woke up at 5 the next morning, Sunday, with 5 minute contractions again.  I woke Derek, we went back to the hospital.  More tests, more labor-retarding medications.  I was released Monday morning with more medications and more strict bed rest.

They let me off bed rest at 37 weeks.  I remember my sister, Cathy, driving me to my weekly ultrasounds to determine the condition of the baby.  But other than that, nothing eventful happened until week 41. 

I was overdue, which I was told was common with first babies (and she's not my only one to do that, either).  Here's where the 'woefully uneducated' part comes in.  The events of this delivery dramatically changed my point-of-view on all things relating to pregnancy, labor, and delivery.  But I won't hash into that right now.  My doctor wanted to induce me, so on November 11 I went to the hospital at 5 p.m. for a treatment of Prostin gel, which is applied to the cervix to encourage it to open.  Typically, Prostin is applied, the mother is monitored for a while, then sent home with orders to return the next morning for another application, which usually sets things in motion.

I had received my Prostin and was watching something like Entertainment Tonight or some other celebrity news show on the TV when everything turned upside down.  Suddenly a flock of nurses rushed the room.  My bed was reclined so it was flat, an oxygen mask was gripped to my face, and I was experiencing tremendous internal pains as one nurse hastily rinsed the Prostin from my body.  Thoughts raced through my brain, that while I didn't expect my delivery to be a nice little episode of A Baby Story, I don't remember the part of any show or other mom's experiences where a half-dozen nurses storm the room and things are in chaos.  Finally, things settled down and I realizing I was squeezing a hand.  I didn't know whose hand it was, and I relaxed my grip and followed the arm up to my husband's concerned face.  I felt weak and defeated.  Here's what happened:

The doctor and staff said they'd never seen this happen to another expectant mother before (however, I learned afterward that this is indeed a documented side-effect of Prostin).  My body reacted quite quickly to the gel and it resulted in a solid 4-minute contraction.  I didn't feel any pain--I was accustomed to Braxton-Hicks and I was distracted by my TV show.  I wasn't aware anything was amiss.  As a result of this 4-minute squeeze my baby was under stress and her heart-rate plummeted.  They rushed my room, rinsed out the Prostin, shifted the baby around inside me to get a normal HR reading, and they inserted a tiny internal-HR monitor in her scalp.  This of course had broken my water and I was stuck in the hospital for the long-haul.

I requested my epidural and that was a Godsend...I felt a warm numbness spread across my body.  After the shocking experience of before, it was a welcome relief.

However, monitoring showed the baby's HR still dropped from time-to-time.  The doctor said just one more time and I would be taken to the OR, the baby couldn't handle any more stress.  A c-section was something I greatly feared.  I didn't want anything to do with it.  They propped half of me up to increase my own circulation to help the baby, and I listened zealously to the 'beep-beep-beep' pattern on the machines.  I shifted myself if I thought I heard it slack in the slightest.  Even though I had all the OR consent forms signed, there ended up being no need to take me away from my room that night.

When we learned I wouldn't be leaving the hospital, we called my parents and they came to visit.  They ended up staying for the duration of the delivery.  Mom had a nice chat with the doctor, who had also delivered a few of her other grandchildren, and whose father had delivered my oldest sister.  Dad stayed in a corner at a table where he was as far away from the action as possible. 

A little before midnight I started to feel the need to push.  I was glad for that, that the epidural hadn't obliterated all my sensation.  I could feel the surges before they picked up on the monitor.  Derek was holding one leg and a nurse was holding the other--except each time the contractions and pushing stopped she'd annoyingly retreat to another corner of the room and make notes on her clipboard.  Then another contraction would start and I wanted to push and she was over in la-la land taking notes.  Come lift my leg, woman!!!

I threw up and had severe chills.  I pushed and pushed, for just over an hour. Alayna came on 11/12/03 at 12:42 in the morning.  7 lb 2 oz.  I didn't tear or anything.  A lot of details are lost to memory and that's probably a good thing.

Okay, there you go.  It's Saturday morning and we have a lot going on today, so I need to get my mommy-groove on.  We'll post pictures of her parties later.  Gosh, I'm starting to tear up again...darn it!!!  Hasta la vista, readers.  Thanks for sharing this day with me.