Rowan’s Birth Story, Pt. 1

It’s been a minute since my last post, which leads into this week’s blog. Look back here.

When I arrived at the hospital, I took the nurse’s suggestion and asked the greeter for a wheelchair. I felt a bit silly, honestly; I felt fine. But my nurse recommended it, and who was I to question her expertise?

They wheeled me up to the third floor, checked me in at the maternity ward, and wheeled me to a room. They took my blood pressure again (it was still VERY high), and they asked me all the pre-eclampsia questions: 

1. Any pain in your right side?
2. Do you have a headache that won’t go away with over-the-counter meds?
3. Are you seeing bright flashes or have blurred vision?

The answer to all of the above was no, and I would be asked these same questions nearly every time a nurse came to my room. 

Soon after that first blood pressure reading, Nick arrived, and they took my blood pressure again. Not to sound like a broken record, but once again, it was VERY high. 

A doctor came in and looked over the numbers, and in a cheery voice said, “You’ve got pre-eclampsia!” Then she added, “Sorry, there’s no good way to say that, but that sounded like ‘You’ve got mail!’”

Because of the pre-eclampsia, they were going to go ahead and start the induction process. We’d be meeting Rowan soon(ish)! That really threw us for a loop. We hadn’t fully prepped–I was planning on packing our hospital bag that weekend–and I still thought I had a couple more weeks of getting full nights of sleep. 

This also meant I’d have to be on magnesium for the entirety of the birth. And being on magnesium (a strong muscle-relaxer to prevent pre-eclamptic seizures) meant I’d have to be bed bound the whole time and even until 24 hours after Rowan was born. 

This also threw me for a loop. One of the things I’d planned to do on May 5–before our scheduled induction that night–was to have a nice long shower, shave, and lady scape. Because I’d come in on a Friday afternoon (one of my work-from-home days), I hadn’t done any of the above. By the end of my hospital stay I looked (and, at times, probably smelled) like a yeti!

But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

The first step was to put in an IV so they could get the magnesium started. They also had to put in a catheter since I wouldn’t be able to get up and go to the bathroom. Neither of those was super pleasant. 

Later in the afternoon, they opted to put another IV in my other arm in case they’d have to administer insulin. This one was also painful, and it ended up not being used. 

After the magnesium was started, it was time to get the ball rolling with the induction. They started me on the Misoprostol. I would take it every two hours–up to 12 doses–and then they’d check to see how far I’d dilated.

For those unaware of what that dilation check looks like, I’ll share a quick anecdote from Nick: 

It was really late–in the middle of the night–and the nurse had come in to check and see how far I’d dilated. Nick was sleeping, but he woke up in the middle of the nurse’s visit and was quite surprised. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see someone have their arm all the way up your va-j-j,” he exclaimed!

I probably should’ve known this is how dilation checks would go, but I was really hopeful it was more looking and less shoving appendages up there. As you can imagine, it is not a pleasant feeling. (Not that I was expecting a lot of pleasantness during childbirth, but still…)

After I’d had all the doses of Misoprostol, I still hadn’t dilated all that much. I needed to be at least 3 cm before they could use the balloon to dilate me further. So they used another technique. I don’t remember what they’re called, but they look like mini tampons, and they’re placed up by the cervix to help speed up the process. 

This seemed to work as it got me to the required dilation for the balloon. 

And that’s where we’ll pick up, hopefully, next week.