So, Patrick is 12 weeks old, and I’m finally sitting down and writing his birth story. I guess that is what happens when you have two bigger siblings, a mom who was sick postpartum and works, and a dad who works so much that it feels like he works two jobs. Welcome to life of number three.
So January 2016 brought in a huge blast of snow…which was not as much fun for me as it was for Liam and Emma because I couldn’t sled down the driveway. I missed a week of work, and I rearranged my lesson plans countless days thinking we couldn’t miss one more day. When I finally was back at work, it was February. I had an OB appointment with the doctor who was scheduled to do my c-section if I made it to my c-section date. Mark came with me. I left the appointment floored. Patrick was doing great, but given my history he was putting me on bed rest effective the next Monday. I had to replan again!
Now, he qualified “bed rest”. I could do as much as I could tolerate, but he wanted me to have the ability to lay down when I needed to, to sleep when I needed to, to go to the hospital in my car instead of an ambulance when I needed to. I immediately called my mom and convinced her to come in when I hit 37 weeks. I knew they wouldn’t want to take the baby before that, and even though the doctors kept acting like I would have my c-section at 29 weeks, I just knew I wouldn’t make it to March 3.
My first week on “bed rest” was pretty uneventful and just consisted of my last high risk doctor appointments and ultrasounds. Everything looked great. My GD was manageable. I was working from home on projects between nesting and everything else.
The second week, it snowed again. School was off another day (and had a day off for President’s Day!). I replanned again. I was lucky I wasn’t at work that Wednesday. Patrick wasn’t moving a lot, and I was getting nervous. My GD was getting easier to manage, and as soon as Mark came home from work, we dropped Emma and Liam off at the doctor’s office and headed to labor and delivery.
Once there, they admitted me to triage and started doing NSTs. (Basically, I wore two straps and they monitored contractions and Patrick’s heart rate. They want to see the heart rate change with movement and make sure it’s stable if I’m having contractions.) Things were just OK. His heart rate was good, but it was not moving up and down like it should. So after an hour, he failed his first NST. He had two dips that weren’t good…so they brought in the ultrasound. Everything on the ultrasound looked great, so feeling slightly reassured, we went home. (Side note: at my last high risk doctor appointment the week before, he was head down and looked in place for being born. At this one, just one week later, he was breech!) Even though I should only have needed one NST in a 24-hour period, my doctor wanted me to keep my appointment for the following morning. So around 9:45 p.m., we picked up the kids from our friend’s house and went home, knowing we’d have to be back in the morning.
We spent three hours at the doctor Thursday morning again. It was a repeat of the night before. Patrick was failing another NST. The on-call used a tool that vibrated and buzzed to wake him up and make him move, but they needed two movements, and we didn’t get them. So, then we had to wait in line for an ultrasound. Once we were in there, she was able to get him to move and since his heart rate and everything looked good, he passed his screening and we were allowed to go.
My mom was scheduled to come in that Saturday, and I was just hoping to make it until then. Mark picked up my mom around noon Saturday, February 20. I had felt Patrick move really well the day before and that Saturday morning, but as the day went on, I felt like it was a repeat of Wednesday. His movements were less and less. When my mom arrived, I took a nap, hoping laying down would make me feel still and that I would be able to feel him move more. After my nap, I told my mom and Mark that we needed to go to the hospital. I hopped in the shower, not knowing when my next would be if I had to stay, and then we were off to Labor and Delivery. Again.
Once there (so around 5 p.m.), it was NST time again. Unlike my other NSTs, I was having minor contractions this time. Dr. Hayes was the on-call doctor, and she wasn’t playing around. I was 37 weeks and two days, and she
And Patrick was once again failing. Then, during a contraction, his heart rate dropped. That was not supposed to happen, so I was quickly moved to the front of the line for my c-section. They gave me a mask and oxygen..because he needed more oxygen. It was terrifying since I had two c-sections before and the mask was not part of the procedure for the other two.
I was quickly rushed back to the operating room. Unlike the other two deliveries, Mark got to be there with me every second and got to hold me during the epidural, which was amazing given everything that was going on. Patrick was born at 8:05 p.m., just three hours after our arrival to the hospital.
Since I had gestational diabetes, they checked his sugars. They were border line so he had to go with Mark to the NICU and have one bottle…we later learned he would have passed if they took the test correctly.
I felt a bit sick from some of the meds the first night, but was way better by afternoon the next day. Patrick and I were released in record time…less than 24 hours. We were on the road by 10 a.m. that Monday.
Mark’s FB announcement:
Proudly announcing that Patrick Bernard Jackson completed the Jackson 5 at 8:05 pm last night. 6lbs, 5oz. After a mad dash to the delivery room, everybody is doing amazing and his big sister couldn’t be more excited. More pictures to come later
The worst part of the delivery for me was after he was born. I got home and started having horrid headaches. I ended up getting high blood pressure post partum. It was scary high and I probably should have been readmitted by we had lost our help with the other two kids by the time the doctors figured out what was wrong. It took a while to get my levels right again, and then just like that during week 6 my blood pressure levels were getting lower, they weaned me off meds, and in one week I was back to myself.
I’m not going to lie. The headaches were the worst pain I have ever had and I hated taking the meds.
