Shiloh’s birth – Part One

We had been there before. It was all very familiar – laced with a bit of deja vu – and yet so different this time.

As we approached Arabella’s birth it felt like there was a groundswell of anticipation. I had carefully planned out inducement day, the arrival of family in time for the birth, the arrival of lifelong friends in time for the possibility of a funeral. Friends, acquaintances, and strangers seemed to all be collectively holding their breath – tracking the updates through the long hours of labor.

The approach this time around felt much quieter. Many likely assumed that this girl would be a fighter, would follow the road paved by her sister. But my mama’s heart trembled – fully aware of the the full gamut of outcomes we were facing. But inducement day and the days following were not nearly as scripted ahead of time. Arabella had taught me to let go of the details – and that details rarely play out as planned. In fact, planning was pretty much impossible this time around. Heading into the hospital, due to Shiloh’s position, we weren’t even sure we would be induced. We knew we might be sent home to Ronald McDonald – to return on Monday for a c-section. Consequently, friends and family were on hold for making the trip over to Seattle.

Jeff arrived with our girls on Friday, on Eliana’s birthday. It was a low key last day as a family of four. A trip to the park with all of us, a birthday trip to frozen yogurt for Mommy and Ellie, pizza night at Ronald McDonald followed by a cake picked up at the local grocery store, frosted of course in Ellie’s favorite colors. We put the girls to bed, and settled in within video monitor range in the Ronald McDonald lobby. Jeff read and I wrote. And then we headed to bed.

Saturday morning we woke up and quickly toasted up some bagels for the family – optimistically hoping to be headed to the hospital soon. My dad was making an early morning trip over the mountains and would be arriving around 9 to take care of the girls for us. We made our call into the hospital and the first episode of deja vu appeared. All the beds were full on the delivery ward; we could call to check back in a few hours. The last time with Bella, all the NICU beds were full – a fact that delayed inducement a full day and taught me a lesson in release.

On this day, the delay didn’t ruffle too many feathers. We ate a second breakfast at the Ronald McDonald Saturday brunch, and then settled in the room with my dad and the girls watching cartoons. I read a book, Jeff did a bit of work, my dad dozed. Jeff called back in for a status update at some point in the morning, and we were told that there should be deliveries soon and they would call us when a bed opened.

Lunch time approached and we headed down to the kitchen to make PB&J sandwiches for all. It was at that moment, standing in the kitchen with peanut butter slathered knife in hand that we got the call – you can come in now. I hurried through the rest of the assembly line sandwich prep, wrapped Jeff & my sandwiches in paper towels, and headed up to the room for the hospital bag.

We arrived at the UW and got checked in. The nurse got me on the monitors and warned me that the placement of said monitors appeared to indicate Miss Shiloh was still breech. We would have to wait, though, for the OB to do an ultrasound to confirm. And so began the waiting game. Jeff and I played games and chatted and waited. And waited. It was a busy day on the floor and consequently it took awhile to get the ultrasound. Eventually the machine was rolled in and suspicions were confirmed. Stubborn Shiloh was still breech, despite my efforts to “spin” her. And so we got talked through all the procedural risks of a version and signed forms. The resident talking us through the procedure warned that I had quite a bit of discomfort ahead of me.

Forms signed, we settled in to wait again. Evening was approaching and we hadn’t even attempted to turn Shiloh, let alone start inducement. Eventually the attending came in to talk to us about the possibility of getting an epidural placed for the version. Recent research had shown a significant increase of success for versions when an epidural is given – presumably from how that relaxes the uterus. We were looking for anything to make success more likely, and quickly agreed. The attending said we would just have to wait for anesthesia to be ready.

And so we waited again. After another substantial wait the OB popped in – things are a bit busy on the floor and for anesthesia, do you want to try it without the epidural or wait for it? We’ll wait for it, we responded.

One of our favorite nurses from Bella’s birth had purposefully scheduled herself to be on shift that night. We thought we would be well under way with labor by the time she came on, but as the minutes ticked by, I texted her to say she might even make it for the version.

Sure enough, Jenni showed up just as we were getting settled in the operating room. My epidural was placed – incorrectly on the first attempt (which would prove to make the next hours more uncomfortable), correctly on the second attempt. And then they got to work. The attending had an ultrasound on Shiloh, keeping a careful eye on her. And then two residents used every ounce of their strength to push Shiloh around. Due to her position, they were attempting to move her a full 270 degrees.

They made it about halfway when Shiloh’s heart rate showed she wasn’t too pleased with being manipulated. They gave her a break and let her heart rate stabilize. And then the pushing started again. Thankfully, on this final push they were able to move her all the way around to a head down position. However, Shiloh’s ability to flip was now notorious, and so they strapped me into a tight belly band to make sure she stayed in position. There was only one problem. The floor was all out of the belly band size I needed. The next size up clearly was going to do no good at keeping her in place. And so they had to strap me in to a band one size too small. It quite literally took two people to pull that thing closed around me. So yes, I entered labor with basically a tight girdle on like they used in the sixteenth century. And yes, that is about as comfortable as it sounds.

But frankly, I was just thrilled to be entering labor. Thrilled that I wasn’t going to be sent back to Ronald McDonald still pregnant. Thrilled that a vaginal delivery was still very much on the table. Thrilled that we were finally going to meet our girl.

However, as the epidural from the version wore off my elation took a nose dive. My back hurt. Really, really hurt. We’re talking about an 8 on the pain scale. And suddenly the thought of laboring with a girdle and this amount of pain…well, let’s just say I was feeling a bit defeated. I did not want to turn the epidural back on. I know I labor long and I wanted to be able to move and eat and work with Shiloh to get her into position. But I honestly didn’t know if I could do it. Not like this. I fought back tears and texted some of my closest friends to pray.

Jenni brought some OTC pain meds for me to take, and with the numbness worn off in my legs, I decided to try to get up and move around. Thankfully, movement appeared to dull the pain some.

And so doses of cervidil began, night fell, contractions settled into steady regularity, and I settled in for the long haul. Neither of my previous two labors had progressed with great speed, and I was expecting the same once again.

To be continued…