-
The Birth of Corinne Elizabeth
My first child had me worrying about her before she even let me see her face. The initial prenatal visit, when I was only ten weeks pregnant, ended in an ultrasound when the doctor couldn’t find a heartbeat. Out came the machine and my husband and I got our first glimpse of the amazing kidney bean shape with a flutter in its center. I fell in love then and there.
After that initial scare, I had a routine pregnancy except for the inability of the doctors to monitor the heartbeat. This little girl knew when they were listening for her and would turn in such a way as to make it impossible to hear. Each appointment seemed to end in me having a non stress test and staring at a ceiling for twenty minutes listening to the lub-dub of my baby’s heart.
And then I reached my 39th week. I had another routine visit and noticed the doctor’s brow furrow as he listened to the heartbeat. I could hear the beat and it seemed strong. He told me that it was nothing serious, just a little skip. I was hooked up to a non stress test again and as usual, my little girl would not cooperate. Every time the heartbeat was found, there would be the whooshing sound of movement and it would disappear. So we were off to the hospital again for another non stress test and an ultrasound. There she was, still inside me, but looking so different than our second sneak peak at twenty weeks. On the screen, the heartbeat was strong and the doctor told us that everything looked perfect.
I was due on April 29th and went in for a routine doctor’s visit. My husband and I had been walking two miles a day trying to induce labor. The night before, I was having contractions every eight minutes and we were hoping to go to the doctor and be told to head to the hospital. We even had my bag in the trunk, just in case. Instead, we were told that there was a good chance that I would have the baby in the next week. We were a little disappointed, but headed off for some pina colada Italian ice and spent the day waiting for contractions to start again.
The contractions never started, but at 1:00 a.m. on April 30th I awoke to a sudden surge of water. I jumped out of bed, waking my husband in the process and told him to get me a towel. He ran to the linen closet, opened it, and yelled "where are the towels?" They were right in front of him, but he was so confused by being woken up that he couldn’t grasp what I had asked for. He called the doctor while I showered and did my hair. Around 2:00 a.m. we left our house for the last time as just the two of us.
When we got to the hospital, they asked me if I was sure my water broke. My husband looked at them and said "either her water broke or she brought a gallon of water to bed with her." They seemed shocked when I explained how much water came out and told me that I had grossly ruptured my membrane. They set me up in a labor room and put the monitor on my stomach to make sure that the baby was handling the changes well. When they examined me, I was only dilated 2 centimeters. I wasn’t having any contractions, but the nurses were unable to keep track the baby’s heartbeat. Because they knew the baby had a heart arrhythmia, they were concerned and put an internal monitor in place.
At 4:30 a.m. they started me on Pitocin to get the contractions going. At that time, I still had not dilated. By 7:00 I was having contractions that were four minutes apart and causing me a great deal of discomfort. I had dilated to four centimeters and decided that because I couldn’t walk around due to the internal monitor I needed an epidural. After the epidural was administered, I was my smiling, joking self and better able to handle my husband’s playing with the buttons and gadgets around the room. He was like a kid in a candy store. After weeks of telling me to do jumping jacks to get the baby out or asking me if the baby was coming each time I sighed, the moment he couldn’t wait for was here.
I was examined at 10:15 and the nurses were surprised to find that I was completely dilated and the baby was at +2 station. I started pushing, but the baby’s heartbeat slowed and the doctor decided to have me wait, take some more fluid, and decrease the epidural.
11:15 brought the doctor back to my side to see if I was ready. I felt the need to push and five contractions later, at 11:37 a.m., Corinne Elizabeth arrived. Her daddy cut the umbilical cord and the nurse took her to the warmer. She weighed 6 lbs. 13 oz. and did well on all of the tests the nurses performed. I could see my perfect little baby and was relieved to hear that she was healthy. I held her and took in everything about her; the brightness of her eyes, the little mole below her hair line, her perfectly round head. She gazed at me and I filled with love.
Then the worrying started again. The nurse took Corinne to the nursery and set me up in the mother-baby room. I was told that Corinne would be back with me in less than an hour. My husband left to make some calls and get something for us to eat as I sat waiting to see my baby girl again. An hour passed and then it was two hours. At 3:30, three and a half hours after they took her from me, a nurse came in to my room and told me that they had called in the pediatric cardiologist because of a problem with the baby’s heart. She asked if it would be all right to give her a bottle and a responded with a vehement "no." I asked if I could go see my daughter and nurse her and was told I would have to wait until the cardiologist gave the ok. I sat in my room, shaking, and when they finally called for me, I had to have a wheelchair because I was so terrified that something was wrong.
I entered the nursery to see my baby hooked up to a heart monitor with wires coming out of the bassinet. The cardiologist came over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. As he removed the wires from my baby’s delicate skin, he told me that it was nothing to worry about, that he should not even have been called. My baby girl was fine; she just had a routine arrhythmia that usually clears at birth, but didn’t. I would have to monitor it for the next few weeks and just make sure that the baby was not lethargic or having any difficulties. I broke down into tears and thanked him. I glared at the nurses who had taken Corinne from me. My husband found me in the nursery with tears in my eyes. A look of panic spread across his face and once I explained what was going on, it changed to relief and we took our daughter back to my room. I spent the next two days in the hospital getting to know my daughter and not letting her out of my sight.
There is nothing that could have prepared me for the roller coaster of emotion that I had on the day of Corinne’s birth. When I think back about that day, however, what is most overwhelming is the love that was created in the instant that my hands touched her for the first time, my perfect baby girl.
Stacey is a stay-at-home mother to her two children: Corinne who is three years old and Garrett who is 1 year old. She lives in New England.
Check back for Garrett’s birth story-coming soon!
A blog is born
