Today, I'm in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Spring has arrived. Overcast skies have brought soft, cool breezes onto Southwestern edge of Lake Michigan. But flowers are slowly blooming and the maples and oaks are just beginning to bud.
It's pretty unbelievable that Jamie and I have kept this blog for over 7 years. What initially started out as an avenue to communicate with family and friends while we lived in the Czech Republic, has become an ongoing chronicle of our lives together. We've written about our experiences in Erie, about our move to Milwaukee, my time spent at Marquette, our cross-country bike trip, and about countless, mundane day-to-day observances. It's become an open repository of our memories.
The blog has served as the forum through which Jamie and I have been able to share our life's adventures and experiences. And while we've been through a lot together, at the beginning of this April, we both entered a completely new realm of reality, as we threw on the cloak of becoming "mom" and "dad."
Ada as born nearly three weeks premature. Essentially nothing went to plan. And, yeah, while I'm well aware that most birth plans are foiled, it is nevertheless shocking when your well-laid vision and preparation are essentially thrown to the curb, because the labor experience was, well, insane...
Throughout the months of February and March, Jamie and I attended a birthing class. While there, we learned all sorts of breathing techniques and labor positions that are proven to aid in birth and delivery. We would go home, talk about the positions that were most comfortable for Jamie, and then discuss the way in which we would engage those positions while in the hospital. Our goal as a couple was to have a natural birth--well, as natural as one can get in a hospital. We wanted to avoid an epidural at all cost, and were open to the idea of pain relief, but really wanted to avoid medicines as much as possible.
So when Jamie's water broke at 4:40 am on Monday, April 6th, we packed up our extensive "labor bag" and prepared for a long, laborious delivery in a hospital, with Jamie experiencing the ebb, flow, and ultimate crescendo of pain and pressure that comes with a vaginal delivery. Too bad for us, Ada had other plans. She was breech. Not good. She punctured Jamie's bag of waters. Double not good. And she wanted out of the womb IMMEDIATELY, inducing labor. Triple not good. The midwife at the hospital evaluated Jamie for exactly 10 minutes, said she believed we would have to have a c-section. And then went outside to discuss with her colleagues. All Jamie and I heard from the nurses station were hushed, shocked exclamations of "Ruptured Breech!"...."Ruptured Breech?"...."Ruptured Breech!?"
The doctors evaluated us. Told us we needed a c-section. The news came all at once. Within 20 minutes there was a cavalcade of doctors, nurses, beeping machines, and needles being produced. I felt as if I was in a whirlpool of chaos and was getting sucked farther and farther into the vortex of "immediacy" and emergency that seems to run rampant at hospitals. I wanted to slow the process down, to make sure Jamie was comfortable and able to articulate her wishes. I did so only periodically, when many of them left our room. At 7:00 am we entered our room. At 8:30am, Jamie was led into the cold, white operating room. I was forced to (literally) wear what they call the "bunny suit" and stand in the hallway, left to peer through two panes of glass. I wondered about the pain Jamie would experience when the spinal would be inserted in-between two vertebrae. I knew she was in a panic. I only hoped that the doctors and nurses would attempt to calm her nerves. After all, a c-section is as far away as one can get form a natural birth.
When I was led into the operating room, I could see in Jamie's eyes that she was enclosed in fear. Luckily, I was given a seat next to hear. I stroked her hand and touched her forehead. It was awkward. I had not imagined that one of the most intimate moments of our relationship--bringing new life into this world--would end up turning into a terrifying ordeal of bio-hazard bags, splatter shields, and doctors' masks. Once Ada was extracted from Jamie's womb, I was told to look over the operating curtain. I did. I couldn't make out whether our newborn was a boy or a girl. Her labia were inflamed due to the hormones of birth. I took a guess. "A girl!?" Thankfully no one laughed. I had been right. Ada was whisked away to a heat machine, where she was weighed and measured. I asked the nurses to get Ada immediately on Jamie's chest--well, what was exposed of her chest. They did after some prodding.
After witnessing a c-section first-hand, I am amazed at how nonchalant we are in our public discussion about c-sections as a common birthing option. It's major, invasive surgery. I would NEVER recommend this unless it was absolutely necessary to ensure the health and safety of the mother and child. To me, it's as though the conversation around this type of surgery goes like this: "Well, I don't want to go through labor pains, so I'll just get a c-section." That's insane. The recovery time after the operation is easily 6x as long. Jamie is still in pain, as her incision heals. There is a lot of bleeding, you're unable to lift more than 10 lbs, and you can't drive, walk, or...ahem...have sex for quite some time. It's really challenging. And, quite frankly, it's not as safe as we say it is. Studies have shown that women who opt to undergo a c-section birth are 8x more likely to experience medical complications during childbirth and die during birth.
Now, I'm not some crazy radical anti-medicine zealot, with an idealized vision of "down-home" medicine as it was practiced on the 'ole farmstead. But I do think it's necessary for us to evaluate the rate at which hospitals are opting for c-section births....
Well, enough of that rant.
Ada was healthy. She couldn't eat though, and had trouble suckling. It's common for young children, especially those born prematurely, to have to learn the act of sucking. Ada got it after about three days of struggle.
And just as she arrived, Ada was discharged one-day early. And that's when the real adventure started. More on that later...
