Part Two
It was a somber ride home from the hospital that day. One of those “what the heck did we just do?!” moments where it’s best not to try and immediately find a solution.
Since it was already late afternoon, we decided to just relax (ha) for
the rest of the night and start looking for another hospital and doctor the
next day. We were thankful to feel
confident about making the right decision that day, but just had no idea how this
would all turn out in the end.
The next day we went to a natural birthing center a
friend had recommended. We almost immediately
fell in love with the place and the two midwives that ran it. They talked about being on the baby’s schedule, having to wait for him
and not trust silly machines over nature, or rush babies because they are
“late” according to a date no one can ever be completely sure of in the first
place. It was the first time that week
that I didn’t feel guilty for not going into labor yet, and the first time ever
that I felt 100% on the same page as my medical provider.
I’ve never been gung-ho about drug-free labor. To each his own, but if I would have had my
first baby in the States, I would have tried to go without an epidural as long
as possible but would have no shame in getting one if need be. Choosing this birthing center meant changing
that birth plan at 41 weeks, but after my pseudo-birth experience in a “we’ll
pump you full of drugs and then give you
a C-section” ambiance, I was willing to go the other extreme.
So we were really excited about our new plan. For about an hour. Then we found out how much it cost since it’s
not under our insurance. No go.
Plan B was to go to the 5 hospitals on our plan and
basically beg a doctor to help us. So we
started at our same hospital; thankfully somebody had lied when they said we could never
come back. After explaining my
situation to the receptionist, I could tell this was a first for them. Thankfully for me, I was too fed up with this
whole process to feel nervous or embarrassed about it.
So we sat down and waited. A
couple minutes later, a doctor walks out and I overhear the receptionist
explaining our situation. I can tell by
the doctor’s face that she is just as confused as the receptionist was, so I go
beg her offer to explain the situation myself.
After hearing us out, she agreed to not only stick
with us for another next week but also do an ultrasound right then to make sure
everything looked ok. Which it did. Lil’ Man and all his fluids were just
perfect. All we had to do now was wait.
The next week was full of doing everything we’d ever
read that could possibly induce labor.
We went on walks. We drove around
town looking for magic natural potions that tasted like dirt, and raspberry
leaves to make tea. We went on more
walks. We climbed a small mountain. We walked to the store, bought a pineapple,
came home, and I ate about half of it.
Did I mention we went on a lot of walks?
At least we had time for more sight-seeing!
One of my walking buddies for the week
I hate papaya
Finally, at 41 weeks and 6 days, we agreed it was
time, si o si, to meet him. Since I was still not showing any signs of
labor and Coen hadn’t even dropped yet, we scheduled an induction and knew that
if it didn’t take this time, a caesarean it would be.
Finally - the last pregnant picture!
Thursday morning on the 28th, we checked
into the hospital again and did the same routine as before. We even got the same admissions lady, and
various nurses that recognized us from the week before. In a weird way, we kind of felt famous! Ohhh
those crazy Gringos…
Round 2
Our new midwife, (here every doctor works with their
own midwife, it’s a pretty cool system actually – The midwife stays with you
throughout the whole time and the doctor comes for delivery) sat with us and
actually explained everything that
was going to happen. This was a first;
Tracey was convinced it was because everyone thought we would try to run out again,
I think she’s just a really good midwife…
So we started the Pitocin and waited.
After about an hour and a half of contractions, she could tell that it
wasn’t helping Coen move. Instead of the
contractions helping move him down, they were causing his heartrate to drop and
then recover, only putting him in distress.
Once the doctor confirmed this, we felt at peace with stopping the
induction.
From that point on, everything happened so fast. There was an opening in one of the operating
rooms, so we would be leaving within 10 minutes. Tracey left to go change into scrubs and I
was wheeled away to wait outside for the room to open up.
When they wheeled me in a few minutes later, I
couldn’t help but think – Well this is exactly
the opposite of how it is on Grey’s Anatomy.
It was a huge open room with white not-florescent-but-abnormally-bright lights. There were about 10-12
people going in and out, and I was thankful to have my midwife’s familiar face
with me the whole time. As I helped myself
onto the operating table, one of the nurses actually said, “Wow, you’re so tall, you barely fit on the
table.” Excellent way to get this
grande Gringa feeling confident about her first major surgery experience.
My midwife was explaining some things to me and next
thing I knew the anethesiologist was introducing himself to me and explaining
how the epidural block would work. He
was very nice, made sure I didn’t have any questions, and even complemented me
on my Spanish. I think he could tell I
was nervous :) It was only a few minutes later he came back to have me lean forward
and be very still, like you cannot move at all, while he stuck a
giant needle into my spine.
It was in that moment, unfortunately for my pride,
that my emotions decided to let loose.
All the thoughts seemed to flood my brain at once: of finally getting to
meet our son, of mourning the birth experience I never got to have, of
realizing how exposed and alone I was in that moment, of being surrounded by
strangers. I don’t know how I see all
these facebook pictures of moms smiling horizontally with their surgery/shower
caps on like this C-section thing is no big deal. In an instant, with the prick of a needle, it
completely overwhelmed me.
As I felt the effects of that needle start to make my
legs tingle, they strapped my arms down and put a curtain up over my chest so I
couldn’t see anything. Tracey finally got to come in, and I actually
had to look twice to make sure it was him, since I was looking at him
upside-down and he was covered with scrubs and a mask. I was glad he was there before they started
operating. I knew they couldn’t have
started yet because I still felt like I could kind of feel my legs. Much to my surprise, he told me they had
already started. Obviously, I couldn’t
feel anything, except some movement/pulling.
I’ll spare you any more details about the actual surgery, but Tracey
said it was crazy.
And then all of a sudden we hear “¡viene, viene!, he’s coming, he’s coming!” and all I can think about is how unfair it is
that everyone else can see him coming
except for me. With a final pull,
surgeon #2 begins to hum the U.S. national anthem, (I am impressed and
internally ashamed that I still couldn’t pick out the Chilean national anthem
if I heard it,) and Tracey tells me he is here!
I begin to weep (not convenient to have your arms strapped down when you
have snot running down your face) and after what seems like an eternity they
bring this tiny, screaming blue baby around the curtain.
We finally meet.
As the surgeon held him to my cheek, someone let one arm go so I could touch his tiny face and head. They asked for a name, Tracey and I nodded at each other, and he proceeded to spell out “Coen Tracey Keitt” because I'm sure none of those 3 names had ever been heard in that hospital.
After a few more moments of enjoying our little
family, they took him over to get him weighed, measured, cleaned off, and
dressed. His clothes were humorously
too large (How do you pack for a newborn
you’ve never met?!) but who cares. Our
long-awaited son was finally here with us, and although we have no idea what
we’re doing as parents, we couldn’t be more excited to start learning with
him.
