4 years ago- the birth and survival of Nicholas Eugene

Due to me still trying to get a routine going with Rebecca, and the emotional toll this post has on me, and Blogger being SUPER LAME, it's taken me several days to get this all out and posted.

Happy Birthday to my little man, Nicky. He turned 4 Friday, April 29th.

Much of his pregnancy and delivery are blurry for several reasons.

Firstly, I'm bipolar. I was not diagnosed until my second trimester with Nicky. I just knew something wasn't right inside my head. It's not normal to lay awake at night thinking about killing yourself for the betterment of your family. The feelings always got worse during the previous 2 pregnancies, but this time was like the Hiroshima of mental illness explosions. So I sought help. It was during that time I learned a lot about my illness, including the fact that it was normal for my illness to get worse during pregnancy because of hormone and other chemical changes in my brain and body. There was also outside stimuli this time around that weren't present during the other pregnancies that really shot my brain into the Twilight Zone.

None of that has anything to do with his actual birth, but I'm comfortable with sharing it now anyway.

April 29, 2007 was a Saturday. Hubby was working 2 jobs, and his second one kept him busy every other Saturday for a full shift of work. This happened to be one of his working Saturdays. Nicky wasn't due until May 12th, so we really hadn't made any plans to prepare for getting me to the hospital. Plus, the two children before Nicky were induced, so we most likely figured that would happen again.

We figured wrong.

A contraction woke me up around 10AM. My 2 older ones were 2 and 4, and I wasn't working, so our normal sleep schedule didn't find us awake until 10:30 or later. Another 'perk' of being ill; lots and lots of sleep.



I got the 2 older kids up and fed them breakfast, feeling regular contractions the whole time. I called hubby and told him that I was contracting and would need to go to the hospital. He was still far from being done, and had to finish his deliveries before he could take the truck back to the office, then had to finish his paperwork, then he could leave. Because of where he was at in relation to the office, there was just no way for him to get to me right then.

So around noon I decided it would be better for me to drive the hour to the city, pick him up, and have him drive the other hour to the hospital, rather than sit there for an hour for him to got done working, then an hour for him to drive to me, then 2 more hours to drive to the hospital. So I packed the kids up in the car and hit the road, contractions and all.

I got to his office where he was working on his paperwork. I'll admit, I was annoyed that he felt the responsibility to finish his work instead of stopping and taking me to the hospital. I understood, but was in a lot of pain, so I just wanted him to be DONE.

Finally, around 2:15 he was done, and I called my on call OB to let her know we would be at the hospital in about an hour.

We hit the road and hubby went as fast as he could considering speed limit and traffic, and with every passing second I was wishing he would go even faster. I was literally climbing the door of that car with each contraction.... so close together, so strong.

My water broke in the car and I almost told hubby to pull over. But I didn't. We got to the hospital and I told him I would walk up and figure out where we needed to go while he got the kids out of the car. I got halfway between the car and the doors and had a contraction. There were 2 EMT's outside of their ambulance who raced over to me with a wheelchair and asked me what was wrong. "Baby coming" was about all I could get out, so they put me in the chair and rushed me to labor and delivery.

I got on the table and barely got my clothes off when I felt the need to push. There were 3 nurses attending to me, two had left the room and the one still there was in training. I told her the baby was coming, and she looked down at me and could see the top of the baby's head. She stepped away from me in order to yell out the open door at the other nurses to get in there. My body pushed again, and in one strong movement, Nicky came flying out of me and landed on the bed.

I don't remember much after that. I recall asking what the sex was, and one of the nurses told me it was a boy. So I attempted to holler at Scott, who was standing just outside the door with the other kids, that it was a boy. I also recall looking at an ugly floral picture on the wall on the left side of the bed and saw it was spattered with blood.

I remember seeing the nurses across the room with one of those big squeezy bag things that does CPR so you don't have to do mouth-to-mouth, using it on Nicky. I asked what was wrong with him, and was told he was having trouble breathing.

I kept coming in and out of consciousness, and do remember the on call OB finally showing up and attending to me while the nurses took care of the baby. And finally I couldn't fight it anymore, and I passed out.
I don't remember being moved into another room, but I do remember waking up there. I remember them bringing Nicky in an enclosed plastic incubator into the room so we could see him one time before they air flighted him to Kosair Children's Hospital. And I barely remember my regular OB coming in on Tuesday and having me sign some consent form.

It turned out Nicholas' right lung was deflated. They put a chest tube in right below his armpit, and he stayed in the NICU for 3 weeks, moved him to a recovery nursery for a week, and then we were able to take him home.

As for me, I hemorrhaged after he came out, and I wound up needing a 2 pint blood transfusion- which was what the consent form was for.

Other than a small scar on the side of his chest, you'd never know his entry into this world was so violent and scary.
Of all of my kids so far, he's my challenge. He's a joy to be with, and is definitely a TON of fun to play with, but he's also the most difficult to deal with. But I certainly can't imagine my life without him.