I should only keep it fair and post Cheyenne's birth story as well. I missed posting it on her birthday as times are just crazy hectic for us around that time of year. Not that it stops me from reminiscing.
I need to start this off by saying I was 15 when I got pregnant with Cheyenne, and 16 when I had her. I never planned to have a child at 16 and its definitely not something I would want for my daughter to have to endure at that age. That being said, I made the best of my support and resources and have raised a very beautiful, smart, well rounded young lady, learning as I go.
Week of Thanksgiving 1995-30 weeks pregnant-I went and had Thanksgiving with my Dad and had a great time. When I returned home to my Mom's I was having some horrible stomach pains that I chalked up to just overindulging. A few hours went by and the pains seemed to be only getting worse. I went to the hospital, with my sister Nina, where I was monitored for a while and it was confirmed I was having contractions. During this time they tapered off and I was sent home.
About 2 weeks later, I had my first Lamaze class, where my Mom and I went together. Now picture a very uncomfortable mother taking her pregnant teenager daughter to a Lamaze class. Now that the years have passed I can understand how completely uncomfortable my mom must've been. Thus why she made jokes and we laughed at everything. There came a point where we were to lie down and RELAX. Of course that was the point where the whole class grew very quiet. That was also my Mom's cue to make a comment that made me burst out so hard laughing. By the end of the night I swear I thought we were going to be asked to never come back. Needless to say, not much was learned that night.
2:37 AM that night, 32 weeks pregnant. I was fast asleep, propped up on my mountain of pillows because sleeping flat was a prime recipe for acid reflux bad enough to make one feel as though they were a fire breathing dragon. I was woken up by a pop and sudden wetness. Oh crap, my water just broke! I had no doubt that is what happened. I got up and went pee, and everyone in the house was asleep still.
Now let me back up and paint a little scenario of who 'everyone' is.
I lived with my Mom (whom I had only met just 3 years earlier-very long back story on that one) my step-dad, my brother and my grandpa. The 2 weeks between Thanksgiving and Cheyenne's birth had brought more family members into the picture. My Dad and Mom, obviously estranged at this point, split when I was 2 years old. They moved on, married others and my Dad had 3 more children. Over the years my Dad got sucked into drugs pretty badly, hence why I went to live with my Mom. During this time all my siblings still lived with my Dad. He hit his "rock bottom" and realized his life needed a complete turn around. During this time my Dad asked if my Mom could take in my siblings temporarily while he did so. So, kudos to my Mom for even contemplating that, as I again can only imagine the emotions that stirred up.
Back to the night of Cheyenne's birth. My sisters and brothers all fast asleep. That evening my sisters, Bunny and Nina, decided to camp out in the back of my Mom's pickup truck camper, kinda like a camp out. I paced the dark living room not knowing if I should wake my mom or if I should wait for contractions to start. I did remember one thing that I learned in Lamaze class the previous night in that if you walk the labor will speed up. Let me tell you, this does not apply if you are pre-term!!! So I did. Again, let me remind you I was 16 and did not know much of anything about birthing babies. About 20 minutes later I had to go to the bathroom and soon after that is when I felt my first contraction. I went and woke my mom and told her my water broke. She called the hospital who told her to get me to the hospital immediately! I think then is when the realization occurred to me that it was far too early for this to be happening. I went and got dressed and found my steel toed boots. Bending over was near impossible for me at this stage of pregnancy let alone while having contractions so I opted to walk with them untied. Once we got outside to leave is when we remembered there were stowaways in the truck and we had to take my step dads car.
The 20 minute ride to the hospital wasn't all that bad. There were a few clutch the door handle moments but nothing I wasn't able to tolerate. Once we got to the hospital all hell broke loose. I was immediately wheeled into a room where they attempted to start an IV on me. 4 sticks and many bruises later, I finally had one in the back of my right hand. The next thing they did was an u/s, only for it to show that the baby was breech. Crap, I'm going to have to have a c-section, I thought in my head. I wanted nothing more then to go all natural with my first birth not have to be cut open like a slab of meat. That realization got me scared and in a panic even though I knew the baby had been breech all along. I guess I figured there was still time for him/her to turn around.
At 3:30 AM I was checked and told I was at a 2. The contractions at this point were coming on strong and lasting for a while. I was told they were going to be giving me Magnesium to help stop the contractions. Cool, do what you got to do. At that point I didn't care what the hell they put in my IV, I just wanted the contractions to stop!! My mom was sitting in the chair way across the room and it felt like she was an eternity away. All I wanted was her to come stand next to me and hold my hand. There was such a hustle and bustle of nurses and doctors coming in and out that there were moments that I didn't even see her. The next thing I was told is that they were transporting me to a hospital over an hour away, as they were not equipped with a NICU, so they could not care for my baby once it was born. My mom had went home to wake the rest of the family and get them up so they could all meet me down in Sacramento. Then the real hustle took place. As did the contractions. They were one on top of another and never letting up. All I could do was grab the side rail and say over and over again, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow. At one point the nurse told me to stop it, I wasn't even having a contraction. Oh my, if I hadn't been in excruciating pain, I probably would've said something. Turns out, the monitors had slipped off my belly during the commotion. This was also the point I started feeling like I needed to push. I made it known too. Almost in unison every nurse/doctor/EMT in that room yelled at me not to! I resisted with every muscle in my body, to not push, but the feeling was uncontrollable. I was transferred onto a gurney and wheeled through the halls, ow, ow, ow'ing away, fighting back my body's natural pushing urges. Once outside I could see the stars in the still dark sky, and the huge bright white, full moon. At that moment everything stopped and I was calm. Only for that one split second.
Once I was in the ambulance with the OB nurse and EMT, the pain was back, the contractions, but mainly the urge to push. A few minutes later I couldn't hold back any longer and announced, I think I feel something. I will never forget the EMT looking me square in the eye and asking me like a 4 year old, do you feel like you have to poop? I said, No!! I think I feel the baby! While one hand was still holding my IV bag way high in the air, she checks me and announces to the ambulance driver, Turn around, the baby is crowning. At that point, I didn't give a crap if they told me not to push, I was!!! Seconds later the OB nurse and EMT were YELLING at me to push. Remember that ultrasound that showed the baby was breech? I delivered the baby's body just fine but her head was still inside and needed out now. One more yell at me made me fight with all I had and I pushed once more and out she came, 5:07 AM.
I didn't know how to react. The baby that had just been placed on me was purple, not crying, and so, so, so tiny. That was when the ambulance doors opened up and I saw that moon again. I grabbed the blanket and wrapped the baby up more to keep in the warmth. Everything seemed to happen in warp speed and was a blur once I got out of the ambulance. I was wheeled back into the room that I had just left only 20 minutes prior. The baby was taken from me and placed in the warmer with about 5-6 people surrounding it and I was off to get stitched up and deliver the placenta. It occurred to me a few minutes later that I didn't even know my baby's sex! During my ultrasounds I had, the baby's position was an unusual one but it didn't seem to be a concern. The baby's position was butt down, head up in my right ribs, legs crossed and folded at the hips with toes touching the forehead. Pretty hard to picture, I know. So needless to say, my gumby little future yoga person did not leave any shots for determination. I asked what the sex was and much to my shock, nobody had even bothered to check! Joy filled my heart when I was told, It's a girl!
I little side story. I had dreams, clear, very vivid dreams in the very beginning of my pregnancy, before I even knew I was pregnant. I had a dream that I was pregnant with a little girl. Then another dream I delivered a baby girl very early and she was very sick and had many breathing problems. Another dream I delivered a baby girl in the front seat of a station wagon, and again this baby had breathing problems. So, really in my head after I found out I was pregnant, I believed with everything I was having a girl. Those dreams HAD to have meant something. If you're into dream interpretations, really there's no missing those premonitions. Turns out, my baby girl DID have breathing problems, instead of a station wagon she was born in the back of an ambulance and she was definitely born early.
My mom had made it home to let everyone know I was being transported. Just as she made it home, the hospital called her to let her know not to bother that I had already delivered the baby and to come back to the hospital. She did and brought my brother. In between this time and my getting stitches I had passed out cold from exhaustion and the Magnesium. For those who are not familiar with Magnesium, it comes with some very nasty side effects that apparently my body needed to sleep off. A few hours later I woke, still groggy and went to see my baby girl. I was wheeled into where she was in the nursery. She was under the warmer so tiny in comparison. I was only able to touch her as she needed to stay under the warmer because she was having a hard time stabilizing it on her own. I was shocked when I heard her weight and even then it didn't sink in just how tiny she was. 3 pounds, 14 ounces and 17 inches long. She was as big as most baby dolls!! My mom brought clothes from home but none of them fit her. Later my Mom would make all of Cheyenne's clothes and cloth diapers until she was finally big enough to fit in standard sized clothes.
The first week of Cheyenne's birth seemed to be going good, despite her early birth. She was breathing on her own, eating pumped breastmilk just fine from a bottle, she did have some jaundice which some time under the cool blue lights helped. I was discharged after day 3, so leaving her behind in the hospital was one of the toughest things i have ever had to do. I visited daily having to get a ride from either my brother, Mom or stepdad as I didn't even have my license yet. Day 7 brought me many tears. I was called that morning and told that during one of her feeds she had an apnea/bradycardia spell. I didn't even know what that meant!! Her pediatrician came in that day and informed me that not only was she having MANY apnea/bradycardia episodes (apnea-forgetting to breathe, bradycardia-heart rate slowing way down) but that he had also discovered a heart murmur that morning. The episodes were reason enough to have her transported to a NICU down in Sacramento as they were just not equipped to care for her. So that day I fed her for the last time, took pictures of me and her together while shedding many tears! My mom and I went home, got my step-dad and brother and made the hour long trip to be with Cheyenne.
Let me start this by saying, NICU's are very intimidating to anybody, but for me as a 16 year old, with a baby being freshly admitted to a NICU, it was overwhelming and felt like prison. I had to buzz a buzzer by the door which only had a tiny little strip of window to peer in, then wait. Wait for somebody to come let you in to only start the prison strip down/scrub up. I felt like I was a germ infested person the way I had to scrub up to my elbows with a surgical scrubby making sure to scrape under each nail with the nail pick, all the while making sure I didn't bump or touch anything with my sterile hands once they reached that level of cleanliness. Otherwise, the process had to be started all over again. Holding my clean hands up much like a surgeon I followed the quiet nurse to go get my scrub gown on. Tadda 15 minutes later, I am ready to go see my baby.
