After a bit of incredulousness, Dan got up and started packing some things for himself to head out. I double-checked our inventory and loaded the car while Dan got the much heavier kids in. We headed over to Nanna's and tried to convince the kids to go back to sleep so they'd be well-rested for Penny's play and the day ahead. Eventually, they conceded and we headed over to Brooklyn. As with Paul, my contractions miraculously stopped by the time we finished crossing the Verrazano Bridge. It's tough convincing someone to keep heading to a hospital in rush hour traffic when there are obviously no more contractions whenever he looks over.
We persevered and were at least early enough to the hospital to find some parking in the garage. They showed us right into assessment, but no particular rush to get us further than that. I mentioned that I'd had some bloody discharge and that was quickly interpreted as my water breaking, so the assumption was that I had to check in and I might as well get the antibiotic started. Eventually, the midwife came in and I was able to explain that there was no gush nor did I have that leaky squeeze bottle feeling with every contraction. I had noticed, though, that it was remarkably easy to put on and take off my shoes that morning. The membranes looked intact to the midwife, but she had a sonographer come in to check my fluid. I was running a "couple pints low," so they figured I had a high break in my membranes. Our little guest couldn't be in there long with a break in her protective layer, so we decided to start some contraction medication to get things rolling.As with Tina's delivery, I responded pretty well to the meds and had some nice contractions going in no time. Dan hooked up my trusty TENS machine and I had a rhythmic tingle running down my spine, countering the contraction pain. Hard to believe those little sticky pads have held up through four deliveries now! After sitting in the bed for a few hours as things got under way, my tailbone was starting to kill me. The midwife was kind enough to offer an exercise ball as a seat to ease things. We reduced my tether count to just the IV and some wireless monitoring so I could escape the bed. It was an awesome choice! When things started to really get rough, I leaned on the ball and that was also incredibly comfy (well, as comfy as one can be when approaching push time). When I started having trouble telling whether I was pushing or not, we moved to the bed, though in the same position as I had been on the ball.
Apparently, there was some kind of event going on in the maternity ward there at NY Methodist. They were absolutely swamped with deliveries and my nurse and midwives were dashing between rooms to keep up with the action. As our passenger began to make her big entrance into the world, Dan tells me the midwife was frantically calling for the nurse, who had stepped out to assist with the impending birth of the kid in the neighboring room. Though I stopped pushing when ordered to minimize tearing, thus prolonging the most painful portion of the delivery process, Zoe managed to emerge for the midwife before the nurse was able to return. Dan missed seeing Zoe's entrance as well, though he was right there the whole time.
I righted myself so I could meet our awesome new addition. She was so lovely and wide awake. Just like Penny, she insisted on checking things out - would not be distracted by food and not interested in napping. Her eyes were dark and translucent as she took everything in. We congratulated each other on a smooth - nearly textbook - delivery. The contractions continued, as they are supposed to, so that my uterus could get back to its pre-pregnancy size. Dan went across the street and brought me a delicious Montecristo sandwich, which I inhaled as quickly as possible. Though I hadn't bled much in the delivery, there seemed to be a lot of clots and blood as we continued to hang out in the delivery room. We'd just change stuff and the nurse/midwife would check back in a few minutes. I got more lovely contraction medicine in an effort to tighten things up and stop the bleeding. No dice. The process continued like this longer than seemed good, though, so they brought in the doctor. Folks started looking worried. Doubled my IV contraction medicine. Not stopping. Another shot of the other contraction medicine. Hmmm...call the surgeon, prep the OR, we've got a Code H.
The room was suddenly filled with more than a dozen people shouting a bunch of stuff, asking me about my medical history (what kind of question is, "What is your medical history?" I know he can't possibly want to know every medical thing about me. Be specific!) Thankfully, Dan had taken Zoe and started to speak in medical shorthand to the anesthesiologist. They seemed dismayed that I didn't have an epidural for easy sedation. I made sure he knew I didn't want him touching my spine. I felt so bad looking at Dan. I knew this was the thing he fears most in the world. He gets this sad face whenever he watches a movie with a little girl who was raised by a single dad. A little while ago when he was on an ICU rotation, he mentioned that he had heard an announcement that was secret code for a newborn in distress. It was then followed by his hospital's code for maternal hemorrhage. He said that even though it wasn't his unit, he was tempted to respond to the code to help out. In the delivery room this time he said he'd never told me about his fear, but I knew it was there and I felt horrible to put him through this. I didn't want to do the classic, "I love you," as I headed into the OR for fear of reminding him of all those movies he got bothered by, but all I could think of to say was "I'm sorry."
Going into the OR was like being sucked into a beehive. They insisted on asking questions while trying to put a gas mask over my face. Eventually, I think they figured out that talking to me was pretty useless and they put me out. Dan's brother had come to offer moral support, which was really nice of him. Of course, two doctors sitting outside an OR thinking of all the possible things that could be going wrong was perhaps not as comforting as one would hope. Dan said that while I was out, he popped by the nursery to visit Zoe. The nurse had put a little sticky note on her bed, "Please don't forget me. My mommy can't come up to visit yet."Apparently, Zoe and I had been in too much of a hurry to see each other face to face - I had torn my cervix in delivery and that had caused the uncontrolled bleeding. A few quick stitches solved the problem before the bleeding got bad enough to require a transfusion. I came to in the recovery area and had a hard time staying awake. Dan was there and I was pretty weepy. I stayed for what must have been hours because there was talk about dinner and the end of visiting hours. Dan continued to stand at my side for those hours, though, and eventually followed me up to the maternity ward.
It was dark outside when we got to maternity and I was just so torn about what to do. I was weak from the blood loss and SERIOUSLY hungry. But they said I should ease my way into eating. I wanted to hold Zoe, but I was so exhausted. After going back and forth about it for a while, I finally decided to get some sleep and be better able to care for Zoe in the morning. I guzzled some juice and cookies from the nurse's station and went to sleep. When morning came, I asked to see Zoe and she stayed with me for the rest of my time in maternity (except for various tests and a brief shower). The nurses were nice - tried to help make me as comfy as possible. By the time I left, I was feeling pretty much like myself and Zoe seemed to hardly notice that anything had been awry. She's so lovely and such a good sleeper! Yet another example of how well God has looked after our little family.
