.07%
By: Gina Jones
Tags: Birth, Nicu, Birthstory, Vbac, C Section

Written by Gina Jones

One year ago today, I had to send my sister-in-law a pic of my chonies because I thought my water may have broken. I know this sounds weird AF, but I was having active labor for almost a whole month up until now, landing my husband and myself in the hospital three weekends in a row to try to stop it. The first weekend, we were at my oldest daughter’s dance class. I was timing my contractions cause they were coming in HOT. At the end of class, I told my husband that I didn’t want to worry him, but I was having contractions 7 minutes apart all morning. When we got home, we called the dr and were told to come in immediately, since we were only 34 weeks. I got checked in so I can have my contractions monitored, and when they started getting even closer together after about two hours, I was given terbutaline to stop the contractions. This shot makes you feel like you drank 47 shots of espresso at once. Your heart rate skyrockets, and your whole body gets the shakes. It is no joke. I was monitored for another two hours. It did it’s job, and we were sent home. Wonderful.

The very next weekend at 35 weeks, same thing. Contractions got to 5 minutes apart this time. Repeat everything from the last weekend. Gown, monitor contractions, shot, monitor again. This time, the shot only worked for those two hours. I got admitted, but not to deliver the baby. My doctor did NOT want my baby to have to be in the NICU. So, I was hooked up to a drip of magnesium sulfate for 24 hours. I would not wish this on anyone. Magnesium sulfate is basically a SUPER strong muscle relaxer. I was warned I would feel super sick and like literal shit the whole time. They didn’t sugar coat it, and they weren’t wrong. I spent two days there, and felt like death. Hooked up to a catheter while awake, I can’t even tell you how painful that was. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t even have ice chips. This is because the drip apparently pulls all of your body fluids towards your lungs. So if you drink anything, it could flood your lungs and you could die. We were sent home after I was cleared. Fantastic.

The very following weekend, at 36 weeks- you guessed it. Contractions again. I go in. Cervical check this time. THE WORST FUCKING PAIN EVER. Tears flooded my eyes and my legs shot straight up in the air. I was only at two cm dilated, which I couldn’t believe was even possible after being in “labor” for this long. No shot or drip yet this time, I was told to walk the halls for an hour to help. This was more exercise than I’ve done in 3 years, so duh, of course it would help. NOPE. Measured again, now I’m at a two-and-a whopping-half cm dilated. I’m given the shot again, and procardia- a blood pressure medication that slows also contractions. It works, they write me a prescription for it so I can get them to stop while at home, and we get sent home AGAIN. Not feeling defeated at all. Sigh.

The next two weeks were making me feel even more defeated. I just wanted to meet my daughter. I just wanted her OUT. The minute we got home- NOTHING. No contractions, no leaking fluids, NOTHING. Radio silence. For two weeks. I even made a friend of mine bring me over this oil she rubbed on her ankles that made her immediately start having contractions. I decided to hold off on using it because I didn’t want to deliver on April 10th, my niece’s birthday. Welp, by the next day, it wasn’t even needed. I’m now 38 weeks exactly. Cue the chonies pic I had to send to my sister-in-law. At this point, I was convinced I probably just peed a little or something, since I wasn’t having contractions. I call the dr, go in, yada yada.

This time, an old co-worker is in there at the same time. We are both checked in, both being monitored. She is progressing super fast, while I’m still just getting my fluids checked because surprise, surprise, my cervix still isn’t open enough me to get admitted. I hear she gets admitted. I’m beyond happy for her. Also extremely frustrated and jealous, obviously. The charge nurse comes in, explains that she’s actually happy my fluids are negative, it’s not amniotic fluid. She’s happy because they’re crazy busy and they don’t even have a bed for me. She is about to send us home again. For the third fucking time. I look at my husband and just burst into tears. At that point, a doctor comes in, and says to do one last test. An hour or more later, the charge nurse comes in. I get up to grab my clothes, saying yea, yea, I know, it was negative, I’m getting out of your hair. NOPE! POSITIVE! Heck yes, I’m being admitted.

It’s weird how your body just knows. The second we got up into our room and magically into a bed, my contractions started. This is where I will tell you before all the craziness that I was about to have a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarian) and was supposedly the best candidate for it. This is because my first cesarian was planned, not an emergency. I never pushed or tried to deliver naturally the first time. I will also point out that at every doctor’s appointment, my doctor was saying how thin and soft my cervix was, and that she was sure it was going to be one push and my kid would be coming out like a slip-n-slide.

Here we go. At around like 6pm (I think), the nurses ask me if I want an epidural. Since I was unaware of how they work when you have a natural birth, I thought it was just a one time shot. I told the nurses I would try to make it until it’s the last moment to have one, because I was scared it would run out. They laughed at me and explained that it was a drip, and that it would be consistent. I then told them that if I would have known that, I would have done it MUCH earlier. I ain’t trying to be a hero. Gimme ALL the drugs. Let me tell you. Epidurals are AMAZING. I fell asleep, and remained asleep until I was woken up at midnight, and told I was ready to start pushing. Here we go.

I pushed once, and immediately, everyone’s face changed. Everyone seemed a little nervous. What I didn’t know at the time was it was because both of our heart rates dropped. The nurses were screaming at me, telling me to push harder. No changes. Everyone’s faces went from nervous to scared. I’m being screamed at, and told to lay on my sides. Nothing again. I have no idea what’s going on. They then tell me that changing positions sometimes helps the baby’s heart rate return to normal. The doctor pushed the intercom on my bed and yelled out that we need help in there. I’m beyond terrified. My room now has a crash cart, a hemorrhage cart, more nurses and a nicu team in there. Cool, everyone’s looking at my business while I’m on all fours. Someone throws an oxygen mask on me, and that’s when it sinks in that something’s definitely not right. Nurses are now muttering “shit” under their breath. Everyone looks panicked. My husband, my beautiful husband, was the only one keeping his cool (externally) and was my only sense of calm at this point. I’m then asked by the doctor, who is not my own, but the on-call doctor, if I’m still feeling contractions. I say I don’t know because at this point, I don’t know what the fuck I’m feeling because my body is being tossed all over the place and people are screaming at me and I’m super confused. (Afterwards, my husband told me it was because my stomach went from having a sizable baby bump to looking like a deflated balloon.) Cool cool cool. They bring out the vacuum. You could literally hear it trying to suck Finnley out, and failing. FIVE pop-offs (is what they called it) with two different vacuums. She was not coming out. The doctor screamed out CODE GREEN, and I was wheeled away for an emergency c-section. (I would later find out that code green means every doctor and nurse, including charge nurses had to be in my room, whether they were with a patient or not.) The scariest part was getting wheeled out of the room. My husband was not allowed to join, because there was no time to prep him. I looked back at his face with this thought that this very well could be the last time I would ever see him. I knew he was thinking the same thing and that is not a moment I would ever like to relive in my life. I thought about never seeing Remy ever again and the terror really took over.

Going down the halls, I felt like I was on an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, with so many people yelling, and staring at me as I’m being rushed into surgery on a gurney. I’m beyond terrified at this point. We get into the room and there was no time for anything. I should tell you at this point that when you have an epidural, they turn it down during the birth so that you can actually feel that you’re pushing. So when I say no time for anything, I mean ANYTHING. No time to turn the epidural back up, not even time for local numbing. (At my two week post-op appointment, I would learn that the surgeon was begging for me to at least get some lidocaine, but there wan’t even a moment for that.) BOOM. I feel them slice me open. I immediately start screaming bloody murder. I can feel EVERYTHING. The most agonizing, terrifying pain. I can’t stop screaming. Once they get Finn out, they put what I thought was another oxygen mask on me. This one was thicker, and super tight. I hated it. I was pissed, and kept trying to swat it off my face. I kept yelling that I didn’t like it. The nurse held it onto my face and that’s the last thing I remember before waking up.

I woke up back in my room to my husband, my best friend, and my mother-in-law standing over me, holding my hands. My first thought was to ask if Finn was ok. She was in the NICU, doing great. She was being watched since she was without oxygen for so long, and since they had a hard time getting her to breathe once they got her out. They were also seeing if she needed to be sent to another hospital for brain cooling, because apparently when you’re without oxygen for so long, all your blood rushes to your brain to protect it. Or something like that. I then asked what the hell happened. This is what I got.

Apparently, on my first, my very first push, my uterus ruptured. So no matter how many times I pushed, she never would have come out. I learned the vacuum didn’t work because along with my uterus rupturing, my scar tissue from my first c section also ruptured- splitting upwards and diagonally on one side, and downward and diagonally on the other. Her shoulder was stuck in the side that split upwards. This was why they put the second mask on me during surgery. To put me under for the second surgery, to repair my uterus. A ruptured uterus happens to .07% of VBAC patients. Point-zero-fucking-seven-percent. Lucky me. It’s also pretty much a miracle that either of us made it, because when this happens, you usually hemorrhage and bleed out. Thus why the hemorrhage cart was in my room. I feel so incredibly lucky to still be here, and to have this beautiful baby girl.

I wrote this for several reasons. I hate, absolutely hate that Finnley has to celebrate her first birthday stuck inside on quarantine. I feel like she’s gotten the shit end of the stick on so much. I didn’t take week by week belly pictures of her like I did with Remy cause I was too tired all the time, she didn’t have a maternity shoot because I had to keep rescheduling it since she tried to come out early every weekend, and she absolutely did not have the most pleasant birth. I was planning on trying to make her first birthday so magical. It still will be, but she won’t be able to spend it with her extended family and friends that all love her so much. I am also so sad because I had planned on making Easter baskets for all the nurses, doctors and staff that were with us that night, since her first birthday falls on Easter Sunday. With this said, I am forever in debt to the staff of Orange Coast Women’s Medical Group and the NICU staff at Saddleback hospital. I will never stop thanking them. Especially, the poor nurse Rochelle, who was training that night working with my main nurse. I asked her the next day if I scarred her for life, and she said 100%, with a chuckle. Also to Dr. Lam, who wasn’t my actual doctor but treated me incredibly. Who did a phenomenal job of saving our lives.

I also wrote this for anyone who has ever considered a VBAC, but wasn’t fully aware of all of the complications. What happened to me was so rare, that I had no idea that it could even happen. It’s also for the women who are considering at-home births. I used to be all for those, personally. I actually wanted to have a water birth for Remy after watching The Business of Being Born. If I had tried to have Finnley at home, we would have both died. I’m still not against it, but I just hope that this shows women that there’s always something that could go wrong, where you might need a team of doctors, or hell, a whole damn FLOOR of doctors to be there to help you. Everyone has a right to their own choice, but I hope they know all of the risks.

So that’s my story. I hope it didn’t bore you, and if it helped even just one person, I’m happy. ❤

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AkfeHYAzhgU

First photo

Finally out of the NICU