Approximately 10 pm, August 19, 2012
I was surprisingly calm as we drove to the hospital; I was relieved that the time had come. Growing up, I had always looked forward to this moment. Becoming a parent was something I had cherished over the past 41 weeks. Now that moment was imminent.
We checked into the birthing wing of the hospital and waited for the doctor to check my wife for dilation. After the examination, the doctor said she was three centimetres dilated and ready to move into a birthing suite. My wife received the epidural shortly after arriving in the birthing suite. She had planned on having an epidural, and I fully supported this decision. Part of my job during this process was to encourage my wife, supporting her decisions in ensuring her utmost comfort. The epidural helped her relax and relieved a lot of her discomfort and pain. I thought, “Wow, this is really happening!” The finality of our 41-month journey was inching closer. My mother-in-law arrived at this point, to lend her support and help us through the birthing process. By now, Nikki was hooked up to a machine that monitored her contractions and our baby’s heartbeats, and the nurse was explaining the birthing procedure from here onward. Before she left, the nurse told us that she would be back approximately once an hour to check up on us.
A doctor came to do a routine check–up after a couple of nurse visits. He said Nikki was progressing as expected. I couldn’t take my eyes off the heart-rate and contraction monitor. “This is intense,” I thought to myself about my only connection to the baby. It was a unique and unexplainable feeling to know I was about to finally meet this person, and that my only connection to the baby at this moment was listening to its heartbeat. Progress slowed over the next three hours, and it was an exhausting experience. I had to maintain my focus, though, stay patient and be calm in order to support my wife.
Nikki had now been in labour for about eight hours. My brave wife was exhausted, drugged up and emotional. She’d reached five centimetres around the six-hour mark, but hadn’t progressed. So, the doctor decided to break her water to help move the labour along. It seemed like this 41-week journey just wouldn’t end. One hour later, the doctor came to check the dilation. Unfortunately, breaking her water hadn’t helped. The doctor said my wife’s cervix was swelling, and he could feel the baby’s head. He confirmed that the baby’s heart rate was fine, and that mom was OK, too. He was concerned, however, that the dilation wasn’t progressing past five centimetres. He then informed us that he now planned on checking her dilation every hour. The next few hours were agonizing; time was moving like molasses in January.
At the 13th hour, the doctor informed us that my wife’s dilation still hadn’t progressed, and her cervix was continuing to swell. The baby was trying hard to move through the birth canal, but couldn’t because the baby was hitting its head against my wife’s cervix, because it wasn’t dilating past the five-centimetre mark. Fortunately, the baby’s heart rate was still safe, and there wasn’t reason for concern. We were then informed that a C-section was becoming a more likely option, because there was no guarantee that Nikki’s cervix would dilate to the 10 centimetres necessary for a vaginal birth. The doctor’s concern was that it would get to a point where Nikki would need an emergency C-section; not an ideal situation or the safest thing for mom or baby.
This was an emotional moment for Nikki and I as soon-to-be parents. We had hoped for a vaginal birth, but, most importantly, for mom and baby to be safe and healthy. We weren’t going to be stubborn if we needed to change our plan.
This was the scenario in a nutshell: four to five hours of early labour at home, 13 hours of labour in the hospital and hardly any sleep, coupled with the pressures of a labouring wife and impending first-time parenthood. The doctor told us if we wanted to pursue the vaginal birth we could, but Nikki and baby would have to be monitored closely. We were given an hour to decide what to do, because if we chose the caesarean, they needed to prepare the operation room.
Once the doctor left the room, the soon-to-be mom and dad, and maternal grandma shed some tears. The process was beyond exhausting. The build-up was intense, but we decided it was best to go through with the caesarean. Ensuring the safe arrival of our child, along with a healthy mom, were our top priorities; we were simply unwilling to compromise. The desire for, and the social pressure of, having a vaginal birth were simply non-existent at this time.
After 17 hours of labour and 41 weeks of pregnancy, it was finally time for our little one to enter the world. We informed the nurse we wanted the C-section. WOW-we were almost there!
Posted on December 19, 2012, in birth, Fatherhood, labour, parenting, Pregnancy and tagged About Me, Blog, Dad, Family, Kids, labour, Life, Marriage, Parenting, Personal, Relationships. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.