Chapter 1: I’m Limited

As you all know, I have given birth. Although it wasn't my own version of "A Baby Story" I had come to expect. There are a multitude of lessons I have learned from this experience. Hurricane Katrina made me human. This made me mortal.

It started in June. I started getting really, really hot, exceedingly tired and had a thirst that could never be quenched. I figured it was because I was pregnant and my doctor agreed. Until June 29th. My back started to hurt. I once again thought it was because I was pregnant- my doctor once again agreed. I did what I could with hot compresses and Tylenol. I didn't sleep that night because I hurt so bad. It got worse the next day and the pain spread to the front. I thought it was round ligament pain (for those who don't know the lingo: it's growing pains for pregnant women. The ligaments in the abdomen stretch to accommodate the growing wriggling human inside of you. It's completely normal.) I once again did not sleep. One July 1st, I called in sick to work and did my best to get some sleep. I couldn't because I hurt so bad. I called my doctor and he said that it was probably nothing, but to come into the hospital just in case. I said that I would after I dropped my car off at the dealership for service. You see Hubby and I were going to New Orleans that weekend for my Great Aunt's birthday/ my first baby shower and my car needed some TLC.
Looking back, I have no idea how in the hell I drove my car to the dealership and stopped at Chik-fa-lay (I know I probably spelled it wrong; enjoy the story, dammit). I called my loving husband and asked for him to get me and drive me to the hospital. He picked me up and we began our journey.

This the point where everything started to go to hell in a hand basket.

The pain was intense but irregular. I didn't know I was in labor. The contractions were coming about every 3 to 7 minutes- I was trying to time them using the clock in the car. We made it to the hospital and I was dropped off by the door. I was on my way to labor and delivery when a nurse with a wheelchair saw me.
"Honey, are you okay?" she asked.
"I don't know," I replied as a contraction hit me. "My doctor said to go to labor and delivery to see if something's wrong."
"Get in." She put the chair in my direction and I sat down. We went to the third floor and I was wheeled into the expensive posh labor suite. This place had hardwood floors, a full bathroom with a tub and shower, a nice size TV, a VCR/DVD player- nice. It was because they didn't have any other place to put me. The nurse came in and told me to strip and put on a hospital gown. I did and continued to have to worst pain ever. My husband sat beside me, probably feeling as helpless as he does when I have a migraine- only this was much worse.

My child, my precious daughter could be in trouble.

The nurse came in a drew blood. It came out, but I could tell by the look on her face that something was wrong. It was the consistency of maple syrup. She checked to see if I was dilating and I was. She started me on an IV and gave me two shots- one to stop the labor and a steroid shot to strengthen Phoebe's lungs in case she had to be delivered then. I was in a panic. I was only at 27 weeks. She had to stay in longer. Her lungs would be developed for another 10 weeks! How could they pull her out now?
The pain came and went, but was still there. The funny thing is my hubby had class that night- the last class before the final. He called a friend of ours to sit with me while he was gone. She didn't make it in time.
I remember them wheeling me down the hall for a quick ultrasound. It was the first time I saw her little face. I could tell she was tired (There is something to be said about maternal instinct). They wheeled me back to the room and my doctor came to see how I was. He looked at the fact that I was dilated, my baby was in position for delivery, my blood was thick, and my contractions would not stop. He said this baby has to come out now.

Now? How could she she's too small. It's too soon. I remember saying that we hadn't quite decided on the middle name, I didn't know how to breastfeed, we hadn't been to single childbirthing class, and she didn't even have a mattress. A team of nurses came in to prepare me for the C-section. They gave me painkiller and started putting more IVs in me. I was a whirlwind of emotions. I wanted what was best for Phoebe. However, I couldn't help but to feel like a failure because I couldn't even carry my child to term. I wasn't going to get my moment right after the baby is born and the doctor would place her on my chest. I wouldn't get to call my husband and say, "Honey, it's time." I hadn't gotten a single baby shower present. I hadn't gotten a single stretch mark. Hell, I barely got to tell anyone that I had finally reached the last trimester.

More to come.