A Study in Contrast

My life has lately become a study in contrasts. Sleep vs. none. Tears vs. laughter. Pain vs. narcotics. Love vs. whatever my life knew before April 13.

These contrasts are so stark, that I never get to live the DBT ideal of shades of gray anymore - everything is a polarizing event. I have to do more than hope this trend will even out. I'm going to make a concerted effort to organize my life and coping skills in such a way that life does resume a sort of sustainable homeostasis. However, my life has never been so stark, so powerful, so vulnerable, or so worthwhile. I feel like I have been truly tested and, despite some significant areas I will continue to improve, I am not too terribly disappointed with what I've seen - from myself, my phenomenal husband, my long suffering parents, and the newest Eschler addition.

I am so happy to finally update this blog with the news that Baby Boy Eschler is here. Augustus "Auggi" Wayne Eschler was born April 13, 2011 at 11:50 am via C-Section. He weighed 8 pounds, 7 ounces and was 19.25" long. His APGAR was 9 - 9 (close to perfection!).
The day of his birth is a day I will never forget, for better or for worse. Since I've checked out for a week, I'm going to attempt a timeline for how "it all went down." I understand many people will not find this sort of information appealing or necessary, but I think it's important for me to remember while it's fresh enough to be recorded. I am so conflicted inside about how the birth experience panned out, I want to do everything I can to bring it to a place of "rightness" as much as possible and normalize what happened.

Ultimately, the above picture is the outcome. I would have cut my body into four parts if that was required to make sure he got here safely. I'm working on making peace with the whole process, though, and truly defining what was "required" in my scenario.

Monday, April 11, 2011:
3:00 am - I have intense cramping and pain. Suspect labor. Just castor oil I took on the advice of old wives tales passing.
8:00 am - I wake up uneasy, contact my doctor's office, and ask for an appointment. I want to know if I've at least dilated - I do NOT feel confident about this induction.
10:15 am - I see the doctor at my office. No movement of any sort down below. I have instructions to go home, bathe, sleep, and relax before reporting to the hospital for induction that night.
12:00 pm - I arrange for our friend to pick up Hector and love him while we're gone.
5:00 pm - My parents arrive with dinner for us all after a day of soaking and resting. I am increasingly saddened by the resignation that I am not going to be able to go into labor naturally.
7:30 pm - We call WakeMed. My bed is ready. I can report as soon as we're all done watching the new episode of "House." Callie comes for Hector. I am sad to see him go.
9:30 pm - Arrive at hospital.
10:00 pm - My insurance information and undergarments have already been surrendered. An IV port is placed, despite the fact that I won't need any IV procedures until the next day. The IV placement is one of the most uncomfortable experiences, especially since the nurse keeps trying to put it in my hand, where I canNOT tolerate it being for the duration of this process!
10:30 pm - Dr. Bass enters, explains the Foley Bulb process and offers me Ambien to sleep. After explaining to him that I would not be taking psychotropic drugs at the final mile since I've avoided too much Espresso during this pregnancy to protect this baby, I am met with my first professional doctor resistance and told I need to sleep and won't due to the bulb without medical assistance. I resist and sleep well, despite the pain and cramping which are undeniable.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011 - Baby Boy's Due Date
6:00 am - the nurse wakes me and allows me to shower and get ready for my day.
7:00 am - I meet Suzi, the angelic nurse who reads my birthing plan, embraces it as her own, and protects me for the duration of her 12 hour shift. Test the Foley Bulb - GOOD NEWS! I'm 3 cm dilated! Start Pitocin. Mom and Dad arrive.
9:00 am - Still 3 cm. New Position.
12:00 pm - Still 3 cm. New Position. Starting to feel a bit of pressure, though.
2:00 pm - Still 3 cm. Break water. There's the pressure! Heather arrives.
5:00 pm - 4 cm!!! Suzi is not going to see this baby delivered, sadly. Heather helps me rock and move. Nathaniel rubs my back. Mom and Dad are eager for a new grandbaby.
7:00 pm - Still 4 cm. Lots of pressure now, but still having a hard time calling it pain. Say "goodbye" to Suzi. Say "Hello" to Kelly, next nursing angel. Bobby and Katie are hanging around. I'm not sure about the times. The pressure is building and I am moving a lot.
9:00 pm - Still 4 cm. Kelly gets aggressive with that Pitocin.
11:00 pm - OH... that's pain. 5 cm!!! I get it now. Still handling it. Would LOVE to get in the hot shower, but would die from electrocution as am hooked up to MANY machines.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011
12:00 am - PAIN... breathing/visualizing/moving/changing positions. Surely the end is at hand... right? Heather goes home. Bobby and Katie have gone home. Mom, Dad, Nathaniel and I continue on.
1:00 am - Still 5 cm... STILL???
2:00 am - Kelly lets me get in the shower by unhooking a few things. Sweet relief! I could labor there all day!
3:00 am - Still 5 cm. Kelly gets more aggressive with that damn demon drug! She also sneaks me into the garden of Eden (aka the shower) once more. God bless Nathaniel.
5:00 am - 5 cm... the doctor says she could "give me" 6 cm. Don't do me any favors. Recommends epidural. Nathaniel and I cry and argue and sympathize and push and concede and ultimately decide that an epidural may help, since I am clearly not able to "release" my body the way I need to. We'll have the epidural shortly along with an IUPC - a catheter that gets inserted into my uterus to measure how strong the contractions are and if they should be effective in getting baby here.
6:00 am - an attractive doctor comes in to do my epidural. The epidural never takes hold. I feel every contraction, every movement. Now, I have a needle in my back that adds to my discomfort, but I'm not allowed to get up and move, since the epidural makes me a "fall risk." I hate life. Mom and dad go home for a brief nap - very brief.
7:00 am - new doctor on duty. He comes in and checks. He says I'm 4 cm. How is it possible to dilate backwards? He says that since the baby's heartbeat hasn't, for a moment, wavered and I'm still healthy, we can labor as long as we like, but the contractions have been strong enough to be efficient and I'll be postponing the inevitable - my body just won't dilate.
7:30 am - this hour is one of the saddest and sweetest of my life. I cry as I type this part. My husband comes to me as soon as the doctor has left the room. I am still feeling every damn contraction and exhausted. I have had nothing to eat since before entering the hospital Monday night. No one has slept. And my husband holds me and we cry together. We can't even think of a question to ask or how to avoid it. We are beaten and battered and bruised and sad. The love I feel for my husband is beyond description, as is the terror at the choice I am now facing. I call Mom and Dad.
8:30 am - Mom and Dad arrive. We call the doctor back. We tell him to stop the damn Pitocin for all that is holy! We agree to the C-section. We are told it's our only choice.
9:30 am - New nurse, Norma, gets the anesthesia consult but has yet to relieve the damn contractions or lower the damn Pitocin. Cruel and unusual punishment.
10:00 am - I am prepped for how the procedure looks. My mother and father are devastated. It's a repeat of my mother's experiences. We all feel defeated. How do teenagers get babies out in between the Macarena and Electric Slide in a bathroom at prom, but I can't do this naturally to save my life - or my baby's?
10:30 am - It begins. Bye, Mom and Dad. We're headed to surgery. I cannot stop crying. Thank God for Norma and the anesthesiologists. My heart is breaking. My body is tired. Darkness.
11:00 am - I am on a table, laid out like a cross. Nathaniel is not allowed back yet. The kind anesthesiologists are explaining what is going to happen. I am having my ineffective epidural removed. I am going to need a full spinal block. I won't be able to feel anything from the diaphragm down. I can't really make heads or tails of any of it and don't have the time to, anyway. The blue curtain is put up. Where is my husband? Please get my husband.
11:30 am - Thank God my husband is here. I am in the throws of a panic attack. Please forgive me, clients, for not understanding before. I can't control my body, I can't breathe deeply, I am terrified. I am attempting to orient myself to time and space to eliminate these irrational fears and symptoms of panic, but I can't. Even the thought of my baby cannot calm me. I am in a full blown panic attack. My husband rubs my head and tells me about the plans we'll make to learn Italian as a family and move with our baby to Europe eventually. We'll teach him about the best art has to offer and allow him to grow up on a whole, healthy, Mediterranean diet. He also tells me the sorts of things that don't belong on a blog, but will be forever stored in my heart, in that deepest chamber where only the most special moments of love and respect are stored. I love this man. I cannot stop panicking. What is taking so long?
11:50 am - I have a son. I am not allowed to see him, but I hear him. Nathaniel is offered to cut the cord. I ask him not to leave me. He stays by my side. I'm sorry, Baby.
12:00 pm - Norma, super nurse, has found a way to let me do skin-to-skin with my baby in the OR. The only preservation of my original birth plan. Thank you, Norma. I hold my son on my chest as the doctor finishes his job. The baby and the drugs in the IV calm me. My husband never wavers or moves.

The rest of time from here is a blur. There was a night of hell as I continued to be poked and prodded and the baby was as well. I sent Nathaniel home to sleep that night and my mother stayed in the hospital with me. It was one of the darkest nights of my life. Nathaniel came back the next day with superpowers. He has been protecting, advocating, and assisting ever since then. My poor mother gave her body for me again, sleeping in uncomfortable positions if at all, and watching intervention after intervention after intervention. Bobby and Katie got to stick around a bit and Emory and Elizabeth got to meet their cousin briefly.

The only consistent beam of light at this time was our little boy. He's a bright beam, but in a starkly contrasted very dark world.

Recovery is still happening. The baby went on to lose 13% of his body weight - too much. We were terribly scared. My milk was very slow in coming in. I've compromised if not changed my plan at every turn. If I hear "It's good preparation... you can't always get what you want/planned in parenthood" one more time, I'm going to lynch someone. Thank you for the painfully obvious remark... experiencing trauma and wearing shoes that aren't perfect for your outfit are two different things, however. Even the baby's weight, I found out was augmented by this terrible experience - IV fluids can force a baby to retain water (it did me... check the facebook pics)... so, he came out puffy... then lost A LOT of weight... awesome.

I have so many questions that the mind not riddled with Pitocin and fear can create. Why did no one try to reposition him? When he was born via C-Section, you could see where his head had been pushed against my pelvis - off to the side, not aligned at all.

I am going to work on feeding my baby consistently at my breast - a final remnant of a natural, normal motherhood - before I deal with these demons. Nathaniel and I are more bonded as a unit than we have ever (or could ever) be. We've dealt with physical health, financial health, sleep deprivation, and other needs. He is the best possible man I could have married and evidence that my intuition is pretty spectacular... I should heed it more. My parents are more valuable to me than ever and, while I have always empathized with my mother's birth stories, I know sympathize as well. I am so thankful for Heather, who loved me so well in those hours and helped me work towards my natural childbirth goal. I am so happy for the time I got to spend with Bobby, Katie, and the kids and that our little boy got to meet family first off.

Lately, however, it has been contrasts. Black or white. Sorrow or joy. Love or fear.

His little face, however, is bringing homeostasis.