The Collins Three: July 2009

So sorry for the delay in posting--it's been a bit of a whirlwind! The past 8 days have been quite the roller coaster ride on the baby learning curve!

On Tuesday, July 14th, Don and I went in for our routine weekly prenatal visit. At 38 weeks, we figured we still had about 2 weeks left to go before showtime. I was feeling great--no back pain, no cramping, no other signs that would indicate that I might be getting close to going into labor.... Anyway, after a pleasant, uneventful visit with our doctor, Katie Gesteland, she had me get up on the table to check to see if I was dilating and to do a quick ultrasound to check on little Jack, his heart rate, etc.... Within a few seconds of commencing the ultrasound, she got a little quiet then murmured that she didn't like his fluid levels. After taking some measurements, she determined that he was running low on amniotic fluid. She said that a fluid level of 8 is considered acceptable and I was presently somewhere between a 4 and a 5. (A low amniotic fluid level is an indication that the placenta is starting to cease doing its job properly.) At the level I was at there was a chance that pressure would start being placed on the cord. Not good. "It's time to get this baby out."

Needless to say, Don and I were in shock. Scared, excited, and completely in shock. We were given 30 minutes to run home, get my hospital bag (which was 50% packed) and grab a bite to eat. Then we drove to OHSU, and checked in so that I could be prepped for induction. I had only ever heard about pitocin (a synthetic form of oxytocin that the body produces to trigger labor). Well it turns out that when you're zero percent dilated, and zero percent effaced you can't use pitocin. Using it then would almost guarantee a c-section. Instead they started the induction by inserting a Foley catheter (it has an expandable balloon that fills up with saline) into my cervix. The insertion of the foley was, up to that point, the most physically painful experience of my life. After it was above the cervical opening, they filled up the balloon so that it was 3cm in circumference, then taped the catheter to my leg so that it was taught. There was a constant, painful pressure as the balloon tried to force its way through my cervix. That process took about 3 hours--in which time I stayed mostly in bed, trying not to move. At the end of the three hours, I started to feel a searing, cramping pain that had tears spilling down my cheeks, squeezing the life out of Don's hand. He just held on, gently coaxing me to keep eye contact with him, reminding me to breathe, telling me I was doing such a good job. After an excruciating few minutes, I got up to go to the bathroom and discovered that the Foley had done it's job and had fallen out. Thank GOD.

After that, the nurses started me on a pitocen drip (meant to cause contractions which would further dialate my cervix) and told me to settle in for the night. Don and I made ourselves comfortable, listening to the fetal heart monitor and watching the little seismograph-type machine that was measuring my contractions--which were painless and few and far between at this point. At around 10 in the evening, Bettie Jo arrived from the airport. She'd been on red alert standby for weeks, ready to hop on the first available flight when it was time. We had always anticipated that I would just spontaneously go into labor, and that she would hopefully make it in time to witness the birth. We never imagined that I would be 'forced' into labor using catheters and synthetic hormones and such--with only vague speculation and guessation on when I would actually deliver our son. Turned out that Bettie Jo had quite a wait on her hands, too. After some good luck kisses and hugs, she left to sleep at our apartment, and Don and I tucked in for the night--awakened occasionally by a nurse coming in to turn up my drip.

The next morning the doctor on duty came in to check to see how much I had dilated (another extraordinarily painful procedure) and low and behold...still at 3cm! Ugh. They decided to take me off the drip and let me shower and get something to eat, because it was looking like a whole new day of walking around with the IV in.

And that's exactly how the day unfolded: mild, painless, irregular contractions; chit chat with Don and Bettie Jo, several texts sent back and forth to family and friends, phone calls, and waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

Finally, at some point during the afternoon, Dr. Gesteland came in, apologizing for how long the induction was taking. I told her I didn't much care as long as he remained healthy during the process. I was starting to get really concerned that I was going to end up with a c-section, but she seemed confident that we would be able to avoid that. Instead, around 6pm (I think--my time recollection starts to get a bit fuzzy here) she decided to rupture my membranes, aka: break my water. I was excited, but also nervous (nothing else was working, so why would this?). We also now had a ticking clock. I had to have the baby within 24 hours, or infection would start to set it, leading to the dreaded c-section.

The procedure was painless (hallelujah!) and pretty much just felt like wetting the bed. Again, Don and I sat back and began our waiting game...which didn't last long. Pretty soon I was experiencing honest-to-god real contractions. They were similar to the worst cramps I had ever experienced, but I could still talk through them and they only lasted a minute at a time. Don got back into coach-mode, grasped my hand, reminded me to breathe, told me what a great job I was doing and how much he loved me. This went on for hours, with the contractions gradually becoming worse. Soon I was dreading that familiar tightening feeling as another contraction would begin. I started having trouble talking, I started squeezing Don's hand more tightly, I started whimpering and crying, etc, etc, etc.... The doctor came in and checked my cervix again, and...hooray!...5cm!!

It was right around this time that agreed to have an epidural. I was full out crying out now with each contraction and just could not imagine going another 5 cm feeling like this. The epi, in-and-of-itself, wasn't all that painful, it was having to sit still as I had yet another earth-cracking contraction while she inserted the needle into my back. This also happened to be the only time during the entire labor process when I snapped at Don. Told him to stop talking and to leave me alone. :) Luckily, me sweetheart didn't take it personally!

After the epidural was in place, the clouds parted, the angels sang, and I could finally really relax. The contractions kept coming hard and fast, but I hardly felt a thing beyond mild pressure. They told us to get comfortable, that this baby would probably come sometime in the morning. On that advice, Bettie Jo returned to the apartment to get some rest, and Don and I settled in to our dimly lit room, listening to our son's heart beating. A couple hours later, much to the doctor's surprise and delight, I was at 8 cm. This meant calling Dr. Gesteland to let her know that I was progressing faster than anticipated and calling Bettie Jo to tell her to turn around and hightail it back. They still thought I had about 3 hours or so left to go, but about an hour later I announced that I had a real compelling urge to push down. The doctor came over and said, "Well, lets just seem what's going on in there...oh! the reason you have an urge to push is because you're 10cm dilated, and 100% effaced. Let's call in the team, it's going to get busy in here!"

After that, it was pretty much your standard movie-style fair: Don counting to ten three times in a row as I pushed through each contraction, resting in between. I could feel Jack's head in my pelvis, but luckily no pain thanks to my awesome epidural. There were lots of murmured comments about how much hair he had. It took several pushes to get him through my pelvis, but once through, our little baby quickly slipped out over the course of 3 or 4 more good, hard rounds of pushing. I had my eyes closed the whole time, concentrating harder than I have ever concentrated in my life, and I remember hearing the doctor's say, "Okay, here comes the head" and Don saying in a high-pitched, awestruck sort of way, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!"

At 3:07am, July 16th, 2009, after 39 hours of induction and labor, Jack Morris Collins was born.

Next thing, my son is laid on my chest, hands rubbing him vigorously, and then the most beautiful sound in the world--little Jack crying. I remember thinking how perfect he looked, how beautiful, and what a head of hair! He was born with a whole mess of really long, brown hair! Don and I just sat there, tears in our eyes, marveling at our little fella. Jack opened his eyes, wincing at the bright lights. We lay like that for a while, skin-to-skin, my hands shakily rubbing his head. Then he was taken for a quick clean-up. His APGAR score was a nine.

After two days of recovery in the hospital with visits from my dad, who flew in last minute to meet his grandson, as well as from three of my friends and business partners, Linda, Jen, and Cameron, little Jack, Don and I, and Bettie Jo returned to our apartment. Bettie Jo, bless her heart, stayed with us for a week from the day of his birth, helping us with laundry (LOTS of laundry), feeding us, helping me recuperate, and of course, spending every free moment holding and marvelling at her grandson.

We've spent our time since his birth taking lots of pictures, learning to breastfeed, grabbing sleep when we can, and just staring down at our little boy. Here are some pictures of Jack. We promise there will be many, many more to follow!