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20-7-2008 - My Birth Story

My mood while writing this blog: Ok

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November 7th is the night my life as I knew it changed forever. I was woken up at 1 am by the sensation of three short, sharp gushes that I felt was urine. I was 31 weeks pregnant and in the prime of my pregnancy. When I sat down to pee I saw the dark red blood on my underwear.

My mind shut off the option of thinking of the possibilities of what this meant and I just thought, 'ok then we better go to the hospital'. I turned on the light and woke up my husband in a very calm voice to tell him what happened. As he turned to me I felt more warm blood just gushing down my legs and I knew this was very bad.

I went back into the loo, used the shower head to wash off the blood, pulled on some clothes, and remembered to take my hospital file, the cell phone and some sanitary napkins. I saw my husband in a daze on the floor wiping off the blood that was splattered all over our bedroom floor and I knew he had gone into shock. I again calmly told him to leave it for now and lets just get to the hospital.

I wont forget that 2 minute drive to the hospital. Being the only emergency case, the ER team concentrated on us. I was hooked up to IV fluids and a CTG monitor to check the fetal heartbeat. Because everything was done in a hurry the plug point wasnt inserted properly and they could not find a fetal heartbeat three times. Finally they realised the mistake and got a real loud, steady heartbeat. I was in a such a state of shock by then my mind was actually telling me that if the baby was gone to be strong, that it was ok, this was meant to be. I think its something I told myself to just not lose it all completely.

I had a U/S and the baby was doing ok. They admitted me into the hospital, and they took a blood test, gave me a sedative and also steroids to quicken lung maturity of the baby for a emergency c-section. My regular gynecologist gave the instructions by phone and was going to check on me in the morning.

The next one week was sheer hell. I wouldnt wish it on my worst enemy. Since the baby was doing fine, the doctor wanted to wait it out and give her as much time as it was safe for her to grow in the womb, but since there was massive bleeding they could not take a chance and send me home so I was literally hooked to a CTG monitor the entire day, to check the fetal heartbeat and make sure she was not undergoing stress. It also detected contractions. With every peak of the graph of my baby's heartbeat got a rush of doctors into my room and once it was so bad my doctor left a procedure and midway and checked on me in her scrubs and they had a stretcher ready outside my room for a c-section. I didnt know that then, my husband told me later. That really scared me.

Finally on November 14, I was 32 weeks, 5 days, and after continuous graphs that showed erratic fetal heartbeat, my doctor decided to do a c-section.

Within a half hour I was prepped and wheeled into the theater. Since I'd been getting off the hook for a week, I had been secretly hoping they'd drag it on for as long as possible and if baby stabilized then who knows, I could even be discharged. But of course with so much bleeding that was impossible. I was not leaving this hospital pregnant.

At 11.17 am, my baby girl was delivered on November 14, Children's Day. She was 4 pounds, 3 ounces and 16 inches long. She was pre-term and low birth weight, BUT, she was alive and well, and was screaming her lungs out. She didnt want to be out. I didnt want her to be out yet either but if she was going to be healthier and happier outside, then thats better for her.

She was in the Special Care Babies Unit (SCBU) for days, and the first time I saw her was the next day because I mostly passed the 14th in a haze of shock, pain and sedation. My husband took videos and I saw her inside the incubator. But nothing had prepared me for the sight of seeing her inside it. I broke down and cried so hard. She was so tiny and helpless and lost inside this cold sterile glass cube. She was covered in tubes and wires, for her heart, her breathing and whatnot.

That day and for a few days later I let myself get into a pity party and cried buckets. Why did my baby girl have to go through this?? Why was she separated from me and the nurturing she still needed inside the womb and thrust into this? Which mother would want a birth story like this? Everyone dreams of a happy, joyous arrival of their babies, with family and friends around. My baby was underweight and take n quickly away to a special baby care unit where even the parents are just barely tolerated for a few minutes.

But she was here and boy, was she a fighter. Her lungs capacity was very poor and she was fed by tube, given powerful antibiotics and monitored constantly. It was agony to watch her everyday. By the fifth day her veins were swollen from the constant IV lines and she had to be re-injected with a new one every few days.

I wont forget the day they changed it after I told them about the swollen hands and I left when they changed the IV line, when I got back there was a spray of blood on the inside of her incubator glass and a drop of it on her cheek. I went to my room and cried about it for a long time.

After a few days of crying I made up my mind that I'm done crying. For all the tears I was crying it was my baby going through the pain. And she wasnt crying, she was fighting. And I had to help her. I literally made up my mind that if I couldnt force myself to be happy, then at least, to be calm and strong. First of all my husband and I got a daily, sometimes twice daily update from the SCBU nurses and the pediatrician. They told me the best thing for her right now was mother's milk, and mothers' touch. I used the hospital grade breast pump at the SCBU and after half hour of pumping (the fourth day after I had my baby) I got thick, rich colostrum. It was only 5 ml the first day and nothing they could use. But I was encouraged.

I went back and kept pumping and got more colostrum, and after two days, my milk came in, and then I got more and more milk. I spent time with her, touching, stroking and talking to her. Sometimes she slept through it, sometimes she got disturbed and gave weak cries in response to my touch. Mostly my husband and I just stood by her incubator, watching helplessly as she struggled to take each breath. But I absolutely refused to get down about it, because that would not help, and my breast milk supply would get affected and I needed to help her get better. If not inside my womb then outside it. Thats all I let myself think about.

I ate healthy food while waiting to be discharged. Vegetables, meat, soups, liters of milk and water, fruits and everything I could get my hands on to produce more milk. Even though she was a month early, after the fifth day she took a turn for the better. I was discharged after my c-section on the fifth day but went back and stayed in the hospital waiting room practically the whole day. The first night itself I bought a Medela home use breast pump and made multiple runs to the home and back, to pump at the hospital and deliver whatever I got at home too. I put away the outfits that I'd planned for her to wear home from the hospital , It was a pretty pink dress from BHS Kids and a pair of newborn shoes from Carters that I'd bought. It was way too big for her, and kept a simple white sleep suit and receiving blanket ready. So many dreams shattered, this was just another one to be put away.

November 20: Six days old

I was allowed to hold my baby girl for the very first time. It happened all of a sudden, when I'd gone to hospital to give breast milk and check on her progress. So I was not prepared and very shaky. They put her in my arms and I literally felt so complete, at long last. I even tried to put her to the breast and it was wonderful to give her that sense of human touch that she must have been missing since she was born.

November 23: 9 days old

My baby girl is discharged from hospital. We had been asked if we were confident with all the specialized care she needed to take her home. We felt we did, although we would realise later on how wrong we were to assume this. That first day was wonderful, we kept checking on her and couldnt believe she had finally blessed our home with her sweet presence. She was quiet and asleep most of the time.

November 25: 11 days old

Because the hunger cues of a preterm baby are very different from a normal baby, my little angel was getting weaker by the day, due to lack of proper and timely nourishment. When she didnt wake up or ask for a feed after six hours of being hungry we panicked and took her to the ER again, where a SCBU nurse that we had gotten friendly to took us directly to a kind doctor on duty. They weighed her and found that instead of putting on the recommended 60-70 grams a day she had in fact lost a few grams and was less than her weight when she'd been discharged. The most frightening part was seeing her listless, quiet and just fast asleep. No matter how hard we tried to wake her up she wouldnt respond, it seemed like she was just slipping away from us into a dreamland of deep sleep from which we could maybe never pull her out. I have never been more scared or prayed to God as much.

Due to her poor luck, my sweet baby girl was admitted again to hospital for poor feeding, and was this time a regular patient in a hospital room but with a specialized nurse on 24 hour duty to care for her. The absolute worst was when they had to admit her and put her on IV again. They could not find a vein in her hands and had to insert it in her foot. After going hungry for half a day, she was crying hoarse for the ten minutes they took to hook her up. It may not seem long but to hear your baby crying in pain for ten minutes was a lifetime. I was crying so hard myself. But at the same time I felt helpless, and awful and a terrible mother. So poor at mothering that my baby was back at hospital. They also had to hook her up to a catheter to take a urine sample. I am amazed they make those in such tiny sizes. Having had a urine bag attached a few days earlier myself for the c-section , I knew how painful those things were and when she cried out it just wrenched my heart to bits. Those days were so hard and thinking back on them always makes me feel sad and burdened. Its like now I can only give her the very best care to make up for the poor start and sad experiences she had in the first days of her life. I know a lot of babies have been through much worse, surgeries and what not, but this was my only baby and my first baby and her pain was my pain.

The next three days she was at the hospital again and I stayed with her of course. The special care nurse showed me exactly how and when to feed her and how to watch out for her hunger and sleep cues. This was something I'd completely missed and I still blame myself for having missed it so completely. I shudder to think what could have happened if I'd delayed in taking her to hospital that night.

After three days, she was discharged and we took her home again, this time we were very nervous and hyper vigilant. The next two months were a rush of bottle feeding expressed breast milk, supplemented with special formula for preterm babies. If I wasnt waking up at night for expressing milk I was waking her up after every 20 ml to complete her quota of 45 ml every two hours. Sometimes to feed the remainder of the 25 ml took upto an hour or more, since preterm babies sleep off and dont recognize their own hunger cues. It was stressful and exhausting but we kept at it like rigid clockwork without fail. My husband had an excel sheet printed with colums to track her milk input and diaper changes, timings and the ounces consumed that we diligently filled out daily. After three to four week she slowly started showing progress, increased appetite and the final victory - steady weight gain. These were precious milestones and lovely rewards for the hard work and prayers we put in. My mother, who was with me continuously, was a phenomenal and invaluable help. I cannot thank her enough for her help.

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