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My Little Miracle: The First Breath

Motherhood. It hit me like a freight train. And that's just it. It does that to every one of us in so many different ways. But mine was a nightmare for what seemed like such a long time. But, now that the nightmare is behind us, as a family, we have come to recognize the miracle that came from our scariest experience so far.

My due date was 13 August 18, but I went past that, as do many mothers. I told my doctor I was not willing to wait because I had extreme symptoms and I just couldn't take it anymore. So he scheduled me for induction on the 17th at 0500 and I finally had something to look forward to. We packed our things and went on our way.

I was stupid and volunteered to let some new nurses try placing my IV, turns out my veins were impossible to find and I ended up with tons of bruises (my fault), but other than that, it was a slow morning. They hooked me up to all of my medicine and I waited. I waited but nothing happened; I wasn't any more dilated than 4 hours prior. So they inserted a ballon that would manually dilate me. They placed it between my placenta and cervix and inflated this balloon. Over time, they would pull on it over and over and it was extremely uncomfortable. Soon enough, the contractions started and HURT.

I know, I know. It's labor. But what people forget is that when you get induced, your body doesn't release those endorphins to help with the pain like in a natural birth. So I was in a lot of pain. They told me I was shivering because of the medicine, but I'm still convinced it was the pain. Soon enough, I requested my epidural. 90 billion minutes later, they finally showed up to do it and that was VERY difficult. I had gotten to the point where I felt like the contractions wouldn't allow me to hold myself still. So I squeezed my Husband toehold myself still long enough to put the large needle in my back and it worked. I loved pressing the button for additional medication. But there was a problem.

I was feeling EVERYTHING after about an hour. And by this time I had dilated to around a 5 and my ballon fell out. So things were moving along and the contractions got stronger and stronger. But I really couldn't take the pain. Wasn't the epidural supposed to help? They decided to call the anesthesiologist back to work after hours and make her check it. This is where things started to get really interesting.

The anesthesiologist returned and over my shoulder, I heard the nurse whisper, "what's wrong?" and then the technician replied, " I forgot to make sure the machine was giving the correct dosage... She hasn't been receiving medicine."

They were whispering and I wanted to get up and punch these ladies! But the pain was SOOO BADD and I felt like I was dying. I told them and they reconfigured the machine to start giving me medicine, but it was too late! It wasn't doing anything. After forcing me to wait, I started to really complain and tell them they needed to do something because I hurt far too bad and I felt like something was wrong. After waiting more and complaining more, the doctor came in to check how dilated I was. I was at an 8 and in extreme pain.

The anesthesiologist explained that they tried setting up the epidural correctly too late for it to work, so she was going to dose me with lidocaine to make up for the lost time. She did and everything went numb finally. But I got scared because I felt....too numb. I had no idea how I was going to flip over to keep it going, let alone push a baby out. My breathing felt weird and forced, but I didn't say anything. I didn't want to not be numb, but I was scared that it was bad from all the articles I read.

I started hurting again, so they went to flip me to my other side. (They flip you to keep the medicine working longer) But then my son dropped off the monitors. They kept trying to fix it, but it wasn't working, so they didn't end up flipping me anymore. The pain was coming back and something seemed to be wrong as the nurses started looking troubled. The doctor came in to check on me, looked at all the monitors and I could tell that he was seriously contemplating doing a C-section.

Looking back, I wish he did.

The pain got extremely awful and I couldn't take it anymore. I was trying to crawl out of the bed and leave. I didn't want to be there anymore. I was absolutely miserable. It's a pain I cannot explain. I just remember feeling like someone was stabbing my torso.

The nurse gave in to my begging and checked my cervix. I was a ten! So time to push. Mind you, I'm exhausted, I've been in labor like 20-22 hours, and I had no energy! I couldn't rest when I felt all that pain! I tried and just couldn't.

So back and forth with the pushing. I tried and tried and tried. They started seeing the head of my son, so I continued to push. Harder and harder. My Husband was cheering me on with the biggest smile and I was oddly happy. But I would've been more happy to have my son in my arms. The nurses looks frustrated. I didn't understand. Where is my son? Why am I not done yet? One nurse left and got the doctor. He came in, took one look and said, "Okay Daisy, I'm going to need you to STOP pushing for me. I'm going to take a look, but it's very important that you STOP."

With the contractions and pain, I didn't know if I could stop. Why would he want me to stop? I didn't understand. I swear, things started playing out like a damn medical drama show.

He started shouting for them to call this person, call this team and this team, call a code "blank" (I don't remember)! I was almost fascinated at how everyone systematically started rushing in and out of the room and assuming positions around me. I think my husband was still beside me, but I honestly don't remember much visual at this point because of the pain. The doctor explained to me that my son was stuck and had no oxygen. So it was very important that we get him out as soon as possible. He explained different maneuvers they tried to get him out. I was disturbed as one involved a nurse completely pressing down on my big belly with all of her weight. That big belly I've spent 9 months to protect. Nothing was working. My son was not in my arms and I was still very well pregnant.

Finally, the doctor expressed to me that he would have to try and manually deliver the baby's arm first. His shoulder was stuck on my pelvic bone and still no oxygen going to my son. How long can he go without oxygen? 4 minutes? How long has it been? I was freaking out inside. I was praying hard. Now, for my body to accommodate a full grown mans two hands AND a child, is not easy feat. That was the worst pain of my life. The doctor was trying to get my son to fit through safely any way possible.

He pulled so hard, I could feel my hips lifting off of the table. My pelvic area was ON FIRE. I felt like I was being crushed by a slow moving bus. I screamed. I screamed like it was a damn murder scene. I screamed to God. I screamed to each and every person who could hear me. I screamed because I felt like I was being tortured. Is this what it feels like to die?

I couldn't breathe. Some young nurse was shoving an oxygen mask in my face that made me feel like I was breathing through a straw. Then Boom! My son was out. I was in so much pain, I hardly even remember most of the visuals of these moments, but I remember what I said and what I was thinking very well.

My son was a blue-ish purple. They put him on my chest for skin contact, but he wasn't moving. He wasn't crying. He wasn't breathing. I freaked out! "WHY ISN'T HE CRYING?! FIX HIM?!

They took him off my chest and began resuscitating him. Waiting for my son to breathe was some of the most eerie moments for me. I hadn't delivered the placenta yet (There was only one doctor present at this moment, he decided to wait to avoid the risk of other complications before proceeding with the birth), my doctor was helping with my son, my mom had to leave because the situation spiraled out of control, I had no idea where my Husband was (He was probably beside me but I don't remember). I just remember my soul feeling alone, feeling like I failed. I thought I died. I have no idea why, but there was this feeling in the air for me that I didn't understand. According to my medical records, it took almost three whole minutes to get him to breathe. They let me say good bye and moved out of the room. I do not remember seeing my son. My husband and mom went with my son because we didn't know what was going to happen. And I laid there alone for what felt like a life time.

I still felt like my whole body had been crushed. It felt like I had broken bones (turns out I did), I could feel my 3C tear (I suggest looking that one up), and I still felt like a ghost. All I knew is that I didn't remember seeing my baby and I was alone. I could feel pain and that was it. I must be dead.

The trauma settled. It was discovered that my son had inhaled maconium (baby poop) during labor when he was distressed, we experienced a nuchal cord (wrapped around baby's neck), and shoulder dystocia (my pelvic bone and tailbone are too close to deliver vaginally. They cannot detect this before you give birth because there are no pre-labor warning signs).

I was distraught.. Dealing with a trauma and so much more...

Keep a look out for the next half of this story! This was a very difficult battle for me mentally but I did make it through! It's a bit long so I have to split it up. But in the meantime, I would love to hear your comments and feedback! Thank you for tuning in!

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