I told myself, I'd post this story before Atlas turned one. Ambitious, right? HA. But really. It took me several months to recover and then learn how to survive working and manage our family of five. And then there was some emotional and hormonal stuff that just wouldn't let me write this all out without weeping. Ugh, I hate to cry. Then, I stopped nursing and became normal again. And here we are, planning Atlas' first birthday! Here goes nothing...
PS. Don't read if you're squeamish. Or currently pregnant. I'm writing it ALL so I remember it. You've been warned!
I could have SWORN I'd go into labor at 37 weeks. then 38. then 39. nope. 1 day after my due date (11/24), Atlas was born.
last doctors visit at 40 weeks!
And, truth be told, the doctor on call considered sending me home, but God was merciful. I was ready to pull out some theatrics too... crying, wailing, fake labor, whatev!
The day I went into labor I felt terrible. I mean, look at me! I was swollen, restless, uncomfortable, and just ready to meet my baby and find out if it was a boy or girl! Tag and Story were with grandparents and it was just Brentley and me hanging out for the weekend. We were both anxious and eager to get this whole thing over with because we had PLANS. I mean, Tag and Story were conveniently with family, and we already had given our nanny the time off, and she had started another temporary job. Brentley had the time arranged off from work... this weekend was THE time to have this baby.
So, because I knew the only way to get labor going was to not sit around, I cleaned my whole house. I mean, scrubbed the bathrooms, vacuumed the floors and furniture, mopped, swept... etc. Then, around 1pm we went to eat hot wings--YUM! By the time we left the restaurant, I was really feeling contractions about 5-6 minutes apart. We went home and watched Hunger Games and without me moving, the contractions got closer, 2-4 minutes apart. They weren't painful, but I could feel them start and end. I had been told not to wait too long because I would need antibiotics to be administered 4 hours prior to delivery due to having tested positive for Strep B (did not have this with Tag or Story). So, even though I hated to go before I was really in active labor, I just kept thinking-- if I don't get the antibiotics in time my baby might go blind or worse (thanks babycenter)!
Not knowing how fast labor would progress for a third baby a day past it's due date, we went on over to Duke. I walked from the parking deck (which feels like a half mile walk to the L+D entrance)... again still trying to keep labor up. Two different doctors checked me to confirm I was at 5 CM. This is the thing about delivering at a teaching hospital: you get poked, prodded and examined twice as much because there are so many students learning to be doctors and some who are learning to be super doctors with post doctorate training and they practice on YOU. Cool for everyone else, not cool for me;) Also, lets not forget that the "the checking" process usually hurts like a mothery mother. So anyway, they admitted me around 8pm and started the first dose. By the time I got into the room, contractions started waning. SO, I walked the halls for a few hours off and on. By 11pm, the contractions were still 3-4 minutes apart but still not strong. That's when the other doctor said maybe they shouldn't have admitted me, and I almost lost it (refer to aforementioned theatrics).
They let me stay, and decided to start pitocin. So I kind of sort of slept through the night and the nurses came in at different intervals turning up the pitocin. I woke up not feeling the contractions, though the machine said I was having them. I got on the ball and moved around and rocked and stood and did everything I could while hooked to the IV. The best news yet came when Dr. Nieves walked in to let me know he was on duty for the next 24 hours and smiled big with two thumbs up saying "we're going to have a baby today!" I was reminded in that moment that God had orchestrated every second of my life to that moment. Because Dr. Nieves delivered Tag and Story, he knows I have big babies, and he is literally THE best OB-GYN doctor in Durham (actually, in the world), and I'll argue to my death on that! Many other women agree with me, AND my nurse practitioner Connie secretly agreed when I told her what I thought of him. Besides, what are the odds of getting the same doctor 3 times in a row in a practice of 8+ docs who rotate on call AND a teaching hospital where a handful of other docs are back up options to deliver? God was all over it! OK back to the story... around 12pm that day (I think) I began feeling the contractions and knew things were about to go down, literally! After a while of laboring on the ball, I started to feel like I couldn't hold myself up any longer and the doctors told me to get back on the bed so they could check me.
Once on the table, the nurse said I was 6 CM (which meant I had progressed only 1 CM over night), and I wanted to lose my cool over that. It's always super frustrating to hear that you've been laboring and in pain for what seems like a long time only to make such little progress. I mean, I was hooked to Pitocin ALL night?! But, as a veteran baby mama, I knew in the back of my head that result didn't necessarily mean much. The next 30 minutes were super awful (I would later figure out that I was literally dilating from 6-10cm). A nurse asked me if I wanted any medicines and she offered fentanyl (I think) which I hadn't tried before. I was tired and discouraged by the progression so far, so I said yes. I could feel it relieve me in spurts over next 20 minutes. It literally relaxed me just enough between contractions so I could actually take a deep breath. But, I loved that when contractions came, I could still feel them and push through them on my own (OK, "love" might be hyperbole, but I did prefer to feel labor rather than not feel it with epidural). Soon, Dr. Nieves came in all decked out and ready to catch a baby, and I was deemed "ready to push." So that I did. Writing it out makes it seem much less painful than it was, but really. Contractions are awful, but when they are helping you push out a baby, they are super awful. I thought I would D-I-E. OUCH. While pushing, someone kept coming in to tell Dr. Nieves he had to go tend to another patient who required an emergency C-section. He kept saying, "just five more minutes", and the next time, "just five more minutes." Finally, someone important must have come in because Dr. Nieves introduced me quickly to a midwife who had been in the room but now was going to deliver my baby. I didn't say anything about it, just kept pushing (and screaming) on the count of 10, and minutes (maybe seconds?) after Dr. Nieves walked out, Atlas was born.
Atlas Roman Cobb
9 lbs 12 oz
After he was born, they tried to let me hold him, but I was so weak I couldn't do more than nod my head, tears flowing down my face. But then they rushed him off and the mid-wife urged me to push again. I could barely try. Soon the nurses started to hold my arms down while another one pushed on my stomach to finish the little-known last part of the delivery process without me. I lost my head screaming and fighting at this point, because whatever they did, it was so painful. And it seemed deliberately painful... though now I can see they knew something I didn't and were trying to help me. The afterbirth came, but so did lots and lots of blood. The next thing I knew, someone yelled something like "CODE RED" and the room flooded with people. There was an anesthesiologist asking me questions and swiftly prepping my arm. Then Brentley came over to kiss me goodbye and told me he loved me, and I didn't know why he was saying goodbye. Then, the bed wheeled out of the room and down the hall with me in it. I didn't really have any idea what was happening to me, I was just fighting to stay conscious. It was so surreal. I closed my eyes riding down the hall and next opened them in the operating room as a nurse beside me told me to count back from one hundred.
What felt like minutes later, I woke up in another room with the mid-wife talking to me and Brentley beside me holding Atlas. It was a recovery room. They wanted me to nurse Atlas right away, but I literally couldn't hold him. I tried, but since he wasn't crying I gave up and asked Brentley to take him back before I dropped him. In fact, I don't remember Atlas crying at all that first day--only me. The mid wife asked me what I knew about what happened. I told her I knew I had bled, but that was it. She then told me that they took me back to do a D and C and that thankfully Dr. Nieves was able to stop the bleeding without doing an emergency hysterectomy. She then said, "You know that this is it, right? You shouldn't try to have any more children." It was a shock, but at the same time the delivery was fresh on my mind, and I did not have any intention of going through it again. So I nodded, and I wept.
Soon, our parents came in two at a time to see that I was OK. I kept crying and then they brought in Tag and Story, and I lost it. I have no idea why I was crying so uncontrollably-- something to do with anesthesia, but the kids were so frightened. I could see it on their faces, but I couldn't make myself stop. Brentley stood to my right, holding Atlas, and even while smiling and feeling thankful, I just wept. Finally, Tag asked why I was crying and my mother-in-law told him that the doctors had given me medicine to make me cry (bless her!), and that they were happy tears. I agreed, but still the tears continued. I truly don't believe I've ever cried so much in my life. Dr. Nieves came to talk to me more about what happened, and of course ended up comforting me. He emphasized how I shouldn't have any more children after this and told me that in the hemorrhage I had lost 2 liters of blood (average person has 5.5 liters in their body). They had to give me a blood transfusion, replacing 2 units (pints).
We returned to our room around dinner that night, and I still hadn't nursed Atlas properly. I was so weak from the blood loss I could barely hold him, and nursing just took strength I didn't yet have. I remember Keith (B's dad) and Joy coming late that evening. They had left their small group at church to come, and they told me that everyone in their church had gathered that evening to pray for us. I had a button to push for pain meds, and I could tell at that time that I had really used it! I was still emotional, but also highly drugged up. After they left, I decided to only use the meds when they came in to push on my stomach/pelvic area to check for clots. I finally asked for a breast pump and pumped for Atlas--that was nearly 12 hours before his first good feeding. I had this balloon in my uterus to help it not bleed out, plus these air casts on my legs (to prevent blood clots) and I was stuck in bed until all that was removed.
I have a distinct memory of being in the room with the lights off that first night and I heard another woman screaming in labor in another room. After three deliveries, that was the first time I had heard anyone on the floor giving birth while I was there. The maternity floor seems to be designed to allow for privacy and they are pretty sound proof. Except not that night. I giggled thinking that it was likely another woman heard me screaming bloody murder earlier that day. I prayed for the women around me that night. I prayed for the one whom Dr. Nieves left me to care for. I prayed a tearful thanksgiving over Atlas. The miracle of child birth was freshly realized for me that night.
Weak and as in pain as I was, the next day I began asking the nurses to be free of IV, catheter, meds so that I could get a bath. I just knew if I could bathe, I'd feel better. My mom came to stay with me so B could go home to shower and check on the kids. While she was there she helped me get a bath. I had to sit on a chair in the shower so she could wash my hair. Looking back, I can't even fathom being that weak, but I know I was! I very much remember thinking of how blessed I am to have a mother like her.
A few hours after my bath, Brentley returned and my mom left. The doctors came in to take Atlas to be circumcised around 8 pm that night. They administered a small dose of tylenol to help with the pain just before, and brought him back right away. But almost immediately upon bringing him in the room, concerned looks appeared on the nurse's face and she left the room. A doctor came in and they let me know that Atlas had a fever. It wasn't terribly high, but babies aren't supposed to have fevers, and he had Tylenol which meant it probably would have been higher. At this point, I was emotionally unprepared for anything else. But then they told us they had to do a spinal tap on Atlas, which was risky and difficult to do on an infant. I remember standing by the bathroom door holding on to Brentley for dear life and weeping. He was scared too, I think, but he reminded me that God loves Atlas better than we could. And he encouraged me to recall God's faithfulness in our lives, and to remember how God had delivered us and our loved ones before.
They brought Atlas back and said they were unable to get spinal fluid from him to test and that they'd need to try again later. I requested formula for him to increase the liquid in his body and became regimented with pumping to ensure that he got enough so that the next time they would not miss it. The next day they tried again, and they were able to get fluid but it was inconclusive. The only step left was to admit Atlas for at least 7 days to watch for other symptoms to develop.
Our friend, Joe Jackson (also our pediatrician), came and read scripture and prayed over us. He was there when the doctors moved us out of the maternity floor and over to the pediatric floor to continue watching Atlas. As someone (Maybe Joe?) pushed my wheel chair down the hall past door after door of terminally ill children, I realized just how blessed we have been. We still didn't know what was going on with Atlas, but I did have a sense of peace that he was OK. The basic thing the doctors were watching for was meningitis. Which, by the way, I had as an adult in college in 2005. It was horrifically painful, and the thought that my infant could suffer it-- unthinkable.
By the time Brentley and Joe left Atlas and me in our new (much smaller) room, the nurses had been in and we began fever watch for 48 hours. It was the day before Thanksgiving. The nurse checked him every four hours for fever, and NOT once did he present an actual fever on that floor. Meanwhile, I had a much nicer bed and he was tucked in his bassinet beside me. It was truly a time of rest. I watched the Harry Potter Marathon on ABC Family-- falling asleep when I could. I was still so weak, I could barely walk the 5 steps outside of my room to get ice from the machine for my nalgene bottle of water. (I was extremely thirsty that entire week). But I felt awful calling a nurse to wait on me with creature comforts when there were young patients there who truly needed them! (BTW-- Duke nurses are amazing times 10!) Our Pastor, Eric, stopped by that night to see me and Atlas. He had a daughter who had meningitis when she was born. After a while, he looked at Atlas sleeping peacefully in his bassinet and said, "You know, I'm not a doctor. But when Susie had meningitis, she screamed for days." He told me about how Dan (his brother-in-law who also goes to our church) came and held her screaming little body for hours so Becca (his wife) could rest. Terrible as it was to hear about, it gave me peace.
Thanksgiving Day came and our extended family was gathered in Lucama without us. That was hard and sad, but I kept thinking about how weak I felt, even still. And, I marveled at how God had provided me this rest. I mean, lets be real. I would NOT have had a peaceful quiet room with the baby in the bassinet beside me and a nurse to bring me water and snacks had I been at home.
Atlas had no fever and the doctors decided to let us go several days earlier than we expected. Tag, Story and Brentley made a mini Thanksgiving feast after their naps (baked chicken, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole) and brought some to me when they came to visit. It was delicious! That "black friday" after Thanksgiving the whole family came to pick Atlas and me up, and we had our first day home as a family of 5. I had begun to nurse Atlas a little at the hospital that last day, and once home in my trusty glider-- everything fell into place. Praise be!
This year, I've speculated a lot about what went wrong. I sometimes wonder if Dr. Nieves didn't have to leave at the last minute, would I have hemorrhaged? He was always very patient and gentle with that last part of delivery, and after Tag he even gave me another epidural because the placenta was stuck and he knew he'd have to cause me pain to get it out safely. After Story he gently massaged my stomach for a few minutes, and I had no issue.
I wonder if maybe I was being impatient or pushing my body to have Atlas because I wanted to be in control? Maybe my fear of having an even BIGGER baby pushed me to try to make my body go into labor? They say you can't really do that, but if it is possible, I know I tried!
I also wonder about if I had been strong enough or clear headed enough to make sure to nurse or feed Atlas a bottle right away, if maybe he wouldn't have presented a fever. The cause was never definite, but I suspect it was dehydration.
Nevertheless, this did happen. I know God is and was in control, and I can see how he used this to bring Himself glory. And, traumatic as it seemed at the time, I do glory in my redeemer! He is faithful and merciful. His mercies are new every morning. He has given us a community of brothers and sisters who lifted us up in prayer. I felt them. He made Brentley my husband and the father of my children. That is a precious gift. And he gave me Atlas-- unexpected, but so welcome. Unplanned, but so loved. We are SO very grateful for our healthy, happy, handsome, Thanksgiving baby!
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