The Stitches

This image was taken from this awesome article on pileofbabies.com. 

Leading up to baby girl's due date, I imagined nightmarish labor and delivery scenarios. I also worried about recovery (but mostly in terms of vanity). I had heard of tearing and episiotomies, yet I somehow convinced myself I'd be walking out of that hospital without stitches. Yes, there were times I pictured myself walking out of the hospital carrying my new baby.

I tried hard not to have any specific expectations for going into labor or what it'd be like to be in labor. I just reassured myself that I'd "know" when it all started happening, then I'd be getting an epidural and there'd be nothing I could even do about the rest. A good friend of mine had told me that nothing is going to be as bad I'd imagined - I also reminded myself of her saying this quite often.

About 3 days before our baby girl's due date (Friday), I had a lot of heavy discharge. I thought my water might be breaking. I also felt crampy and gross, and so so so hot. I wasn't hungry but I was thirsty and my heart was on fire. And I couldn't sleep. So I wasn't really sure what was going on inside my body.

At our last appointment (almost a week prior to that Friday), the OB/GYN had said I was 3cm dilated and scheduled an NST 2 days prior to her due date (Saturday). He did also tell my husband to get ready for me to go into labor in the next week or so.

So anyway, around 11pm the Friday before she was due and the day before the NST I thought my water broke. My husband drove me to hospital in Santa Monica from our new place in Diamond Bar. (We finally decided on her name while en route to the hospital that night... because we thought we'd be coming back with a baby in tow.) We got there, we were admitted and I was not in labor. My water had not broken. They went ahead and performed the NST since we were there, and we were headed back home by about 3am on Saturday.

I kind of freaked out after that... Everyone had told that I'd know when I was going into labor. Well, I didn't. I thought my water had broken but it hadn't. I felt kind of stupid.

The following Monday, her due date, I woke up around 7am and I felt kind of sore in my lower back. Nothing too unusual. My brother and I went to breakfast and as the morning progressed, I experienced several stabbing feelings in my lower back. By about 11am I could definitely say that the stabbing sensation was coming at fairly regular intervals. I called my mom and asked her if that means I could be going into labor. She said yes, and that in fact I could be going into back labor. I had never heard of this before... but called my doctor, called my husband and then started to write down every time I felt one of these jabs in my lower back. When I called the doctor, I asked him if I was in labor. He didn't really confirm or deny but told me to come on to the hospital sooner rather than later. When I called my husband I told him that I didn't know if I was in labor and I'd call him back after a while.

Within 20 minutes, my husband was home from work and getting me ready to go the hospital. He knows me too well. He said he wouldn't leave it up to me to wait until the last minute because I was too embarrassed to be wrong again.

What if I weren't going into labor? I couldn't go back to the 3rd floor of St. John's and have them turn me away again!

I asked if we could stop at Jamba Juice. Hubby said we're going straight to the hospital and that he would get me Jamba Juice later.

When we arrived, we were admitted and within a few minutes it was determined that I was in fact in labor. My baby was "sunny-side-up" and that's why I experiencing the pain of contractions in my lower back. By about 1pm I was in a hospital bed; by 3pm I was going strong on the epidural; around 9:30pm I was told to start pushing; baby was born around 9:45pm.

The cord was wrapped around her neck and she had apparently swallowed some meconium. When a respiratory tech wasn't able to get her to cry after using that creepy vacuum thing, they took her to the NICU. My husband went with and I was still lying in the bloody aftermath. I realized what was going on and kind of "came to" while my doctor was stitching me up.

He told me I had a second degree tear, that it wasn't so bad and I'd heal fast. He also laughed and said he'd make sure I had an extra stitch for my husband's sake.

What was happening? Are we making jokes right now? I can't move and my daughter and husband are in NICU and I don't know what's going on. 

When he finished, a nurse came in to help me into a wheelchair. I was completely numb from the waist down and had no control of my legs. She tried unsuccessfully to help me into the chair about 4 times before my husband came back with the baby. Thankfully, they were only in the NICU for a matter of minutes. (The OB/GYN later told us that he thought the nurse was overreacting to begin with, but that it would have caused more problems to disagree with the nurse about it in the delivery room.)

And thankfully, my husband was there to help me get into the wheelchair. The nurse wheeled me and hubby wheeled our precious baby girl into my recovery room.

This is where I was introduced to the perineal water bottle for the first time. I was terrified to pee because I was scared to use the bottle. But within a few hours, I loved that bottle because it got me up and off the bed. That oppressive hospital bed was like a constant, grating pressure against the fresh sutures. When I nursed the baby, no matter how I positioned myself, the full weight of my body sat upon the stitches. They throbbed and burned and itched and hurt.

I didn't poop for 3 days after we brought the baby home because I was afraid of the pain, and potential mess. When I finally decided I had to try, I did a bunch of research and found this amazing step-by-step guide to get me through it. I was embarrassed but made sure hubby was home to keep an eye on the baby. I took Tylenol and stool softener. I froze a giant maxi pad and used it both for numbing and "counter pressure."

Believe it or not, I survived. I didn't believe it for a while. But I made it through this experience relatively unscathed. It was not as bad as I'd imagined... the fact that I had to repeat this same process every time I needed to poop for the next few weeks was far worse than the actual pain of pooping.

The stitches supposedly disappeared and I was totally "healed" by 6 weeks. But sex still hurt until about 4 months postpartum, and nothing is back to 100% normal. Sometimes when I'm doing random things around the house my vagina just hurts for a second. Or other times my vagina feels cavernous - there's really no other way to describe it. Still other times it's like I can still feel exactly where the stitches used to be. Phantom stitches.