The Whole Truth Part 1

I know I have much to be grateful for. We are so grateful that Hugo is stable, that he loves breathing room air, that he has so far only spelled once, that he moves and cries and sucks on his pacifier, that he has responded to the phototherapy lights. We are so grateful he made it to 30 weeks gestation and the pregnancy was beforehand uncomplicated. We are so grateful that pumping has been going well for me and we’re able to provide him with milk. We are so grateful that we made it to the hospital with enough time to receive the steroid shots and the magnesium. We are so grateful that the nurses and doctors during labor were so kind and helpful. We are so grateful that we are at the University of Iowa Hospital which is one of the best in the state/region for NICU care. We are so grateful that we have family who can come and visit us so we can be at the hospital as much as we want. We are grateful that Nolan’s classes have not yet started so he has been by my side and Hugo's side the entire time. We are grateful for people who have shared their love for us.

The whole truth is more complex. It's a fine thread separating the most intimate, fantastic, and wonderful moments I’ve ever experienced, and the most frightening, harrowing, and traumatic ordeal of my life. When I think of the moment Hugo arrived in this world and the doctor announced he was a boy I want to cry. It was the most miraculous moment of my life. Looking at him, looking at Nolan, knowing he was our little boy that we had brought into the world. When I think of the events surrounding Hugo's birth I want to cry. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. He's not supposed to be here. He's supposed to be inside me still and I failed to keep him safe. I remember being on the labor and delivery bed and realizing that it wasn't just the baby. It was Nolan. I was carrying Nolan's child. I was endangering his baby. I cried and apologized to him over and over again that I wasn't able to carry his child to term. I failed him too.

I avoided telling Nolan I was experiencing pain on Friday evening. Nolan tends to worry and I didn’t have anything even close to preterm labor in mind as a possibility. I felt silly calling the hospital. I had no idea what a contraction felt like. I just knew I had pains that came at semi-regular intervals. I was probably making a big deal out of nothing.

At the hospital, when they told me I was indeed having contractions, I didn’t know what to think or what to do. Although there were more tests to be done, they told me I didn’t look like someone who was in labor. I suppose I wasn’t moaning and I didn’t have the urge to punch anyone in the face. When they found out I was dilated to 4 cm the worry set in. Without dilation it could have been Braxton Hicks. With dilation it was labor.

The doctors gave me all the answers they could but I still felt confused and alone. All the literature about birthing is about how to progress your labor. What do you do when you want it not to happen or slow it down? I kept asking what I was supposed to do and no one could tell me. I couldn’t do anything. I was stuck in a hospital bed for an undecided amount of time for a reason I couldn’t be sure was happening which could change at any moment but no one would know when. Saturday was long. I was hoping everything would stop and I would be able to go home. I could walk around at 4 cm dilated no problem, I was told. But then it was 5 cm. Still not a problem. It could stop. We could all go home. The contractions slowed way down. Everything was going to be fine, right? But then it was 6-7 cm. I wasn’t going home.

I felt confused. The contractions were coming 1-2 hours apart, they were minorly painful, how could this be happening? What was happening? Did I have any more questions, they would ask. Just one. Am I having a baby? We don’t know. We can’t say. What do I do? Then they would explain to me once more that they don’t know the reasons preterm labor happens. Was that the answer to my question? It sure didn’t feel like it.

When they moved me to antepartum the room was very nice. There was a lovely green box trussed up in colored twine, and an envelope that said, "Congratulations!" from the local library. I knew there was probably a children's book inside. The accompanying folder contained pamphlets on caring for your newborn child. The room was clearly not set up for me. The nurse came in to situate me and saw the items on the tray. "I'll take these." She said, "They're for people who have already given birth. You'll get one someday." I knew the moment I saw the items that they were not for me. And I knew that they would be removed. But it stung. It felt like I was to be denied nice things because I was doing it wrong. The room was essentially house arrest. My life was going to be on hold for an undetermined amount of time and I was constrained to the surrounding walls. I was torn between the desire to get it all over with and the knowledge that everyday spent in the womb was better for my child.

I had many visitors during these few days. Some brought treats, another brought a puzzle, and others came by to catch up and check up. It was nice to have distractions in my uncertainty. I was getting used to the idea that I was going to be there for a while. Contractions were getting closer together but not all that more painful. It wasn't until I started feeling the pain toward the back that they checked again. I was 7 cm, maybe a bit more, and they were going to move me back to Labor and Delivery. Back on the Magnesium, things slowed down again. They had a hard time picking up the contractions on the monitor which meant it was up to me to keep them informed of any changes. When I told them the contractions were a little stronger they checked. I was at 8 cm. Was I going to have a baby? We don't know. We're not doing anything to progress your labor but we're not able to stop it. I was offered the epidural and I worried it would cut me off from my body. That I wouldn't be able to tell them something important if there were a change. They reassured me that would not be the case. I would still be able to feel but the pain would be removed. It was completely my choice. Nolan and I knew I needed rest if everything were to progress. I took the epidural. When I started feeling more pressure in the back they checked again. 10 cm, time to go. At least I had my answer to "Am I Having a Baby?".

It's hard to remember birth. Intensity, breath, push, intensity, breath, push. Doctors, nurses, residents, students, NICU team, Nolan. You're so close. You said that last time. Baby's heart rate dropped. It went back up again. Maybe forceps, maybe not. We're going to give you a cut to help baby get out. Will I feel it? No, just pressure. Intensity, breath, push. It's a boy! Tears, joy, Nolan. Nolan went to the baby's side. Busyness. One of the doctors somehow had Nolan's phone. She came over with pictures while the residents and nurses tended to me and the NICU team tended to Hugo. Then they were able to bring him over. So tiny, so perfect, so beautiful. I cradled him on my upper left close to my cheek. and kissed his forehead. I was so overwhelmed. I didn't know if I could do anything else. He looked so very delicate and I didn't want to cause him any damage before the NICU team could tend to him. He was wheeled away. After tending to the placenta and the uterus and sewing me up there was a moment where everyone stepped out of the room. I was completely alone for the first time in months.