The Bipolar Mommy

Wesley’s Arrival

January 15, 2012 at 10:20 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

One characteristic of many bipolar people is that we can’t seem to stick with anything. This blog is a perfect example of that. Since my last post which announced my pregnancy, I now have an almost three-month-old son, Wesley Mark Daniel Drennan. He was born on Monday, October 17, 2011, via unplanned C-section. To say his birth was memorable would be an understatement.

We did the childbirth class thing which told Mark and I about natural labor and epidurals and C-sections and all that. We saw the gory videos. We sat there with other scared shitless parents and absorbed it all. I had some idea of what I wanted in the delivery room. DRUGS!!!! Well actually, my approach was going to be “wait and see.” But I wasn’t going to kid myself. An epidural was probably going to be in the picture.

I began feeling contractions on Saturday night. I dutifully kept records of each contraction to see how far apart they were. On Monday afternoon, they were coming five minutes apart. It was go time! We got to the hospital, and they sent me to sit in the waiting room! I thought, “Are you freaking kidding me? This kid could pop out right here! Do you know how much pain I’m in?” I think they soon got the message because five minutes later I was in triage.

They laid me in bed and set me up on the monitors. I couldn’t get up. At least at home, I could move around and do all those tricks they taught me in childbirth class. Here I was a sitting duck. Finally, my midwife came in and said that because of the LEEP procedure I had done about a year or so earlier, my cervix was not dilating as quickly as it should. She would need to go in and scrape some scar tissue away. She said if I wanted an epidural, I probably should go ahead and get it now. All I needed to hear was the word “scrape.” Sign me up!

I went into my labor room and hunched up in preparation for the epidural. Folks, it really wasn’t bad at all. I was in so much pain, I didn’t care if they stuck a damn sword in my back, as long as they made it all go away. A few moments later, I was good. For about five blissful hours, I watched the monitor as it told me I was having contractions. I was being a good patient and getting my rest. Any time I wanted to shift positions, I let the nurse know so I wouldn’t mess with the IV in my back. She insisted it wasn’t possible for my IV to fall out, but obliged me anyway.

Then, the unthinkable happened. Feeling. Sensation. I told the nurse that I was starting to feel pain in my legs. She said I just needed to change positions, so she contorted me this way and that, and the pain grew worse. I told her that this didn’t feel right. She said to me, “Well, it is labor, you know.” No, I had no idea. Is that what I’m doing here? No wonder I have not been able to find a decent margarita in this joint.

Finally, the nurse who did my epidural came in and took a look. Well, what do you know….it had fallen out! It was time for epidural #2. In no time I was good….until about two hours later. One side of me felt nothing….the other side felt everything. Once again, the sarcastic bitchy nurse moved me around because it was a “positioning problem.” Once again, the other nurse was called in. It was time for epidural #3. The nurse told me that in his career, he had never given three epidurals to one patient in one night before. Lucky me. A little while later, my midwife came in and gave me some news. After sixteen hours of labor, my cervix had actually started to shrink. I was going to need a C-section.

I had said all along that I really didn’t want a C-section. Honestly, I was relieved at this point to hear this news. They wheeled me into the OR. They started hacking into me. Mark looked over the sheet, fascinated. He watched them pull Wesley out of my tummy. I heard the weakest, sweetest cry I have ever heard in my life. The people in the delivery room commented how pathetic of a cry it was. I could hear a flurry of activity. Mark went to take pictures as they were cleaning Wesley off. After nine months, three epidurals, and one C-section, I was the last to see my precious baby boy!

Finally, they placed Wesley down by my head so I could see him. This was my son. This was what had been growing inside of me for nine long months. This perfect little child. Welcome to the world, Wesley!

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