Julian's Birth Story // Part 1

I've never really written Julian's birth story out until tonight. He's almost a year and a half, but late is better than never, right? I'll warn you, it's not the happiest birth story and it won't make you cry tears of joy or make you want to go have a baby.

Without further ado...

The only picture I have of Julian on the day he was born.

Julian's Birth Story // Part 1

When I got pregnant with Julian, I was extremely scared. I was a freshman in college, and still a teenager that didn’t really know what my purpose in life was. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t ideal, but I was still so excited because as soon as I saw the plus signs on all the pregnancy tests I took, I knew that this baby, my baby, would be the love of my life.

At a routine checkup at about 25 weeks, my doctor discovered that there was an extremely low amount of amniotic fluid in me and I was told to go to the hospital to get fluid into me so that hopefully some amniotic fluid would start producing itself. I didn’t really think it was a huge deal because all of the baby’s vitals were fine and I felt fine. Nothing seemed wrong.

Well, fast forward 5 weeks of hospital visits and dozens of IVs administering fluid into my veins. My visits became more frequent, and before I knew it I was staying overnight 2, 3, 4 and 5 nights in a row, only to have the amount of amniotic fluid drop! It’s a condition medically named oligohydramnios, and it can cause a lot of damage to the baby and can cause a really difficult birthing process. On top of it, Julian was still breach at 35 weeks because he didn’t have any extra room to turn around. So, my doctor told me that I would have to have a c-section at 35 weeks to prevent any of the possible damage that can be caused by oligohydramnios.

I was still really unaware of how serious this condition could have been up until recently, when I thought I would look into it more. The doctors and nurses never really hinted to me the negative possibilities that go along with having such low amniotic fluid.

All along, I had this beautiful vision of what the moment that I met my baby would be like. It didn’t involve an OR, metal instruments, or a curtain being hung on top of my chest. I also didn’t think it would be such a scary experience.

The nights leading up to my scheduled c-section was the worst night of my life. I cried for most of them, terrified at the thought of being cut open and so sad for the experience that I had been imagining for months. But the morning of, I was feeling strong and ready to meet my baby. I had lots of family and some friends at the hospital with me, and my boyfriend Dom was at my side the entire time.

In the operating room, my fears came back to me very quickly. I have had scoliosis since I was a baby, so receiving the epidural in the base of my spine was not fun at all. I could tell the anesthesiologist was having some difficulties, but finally it took. The rest was sort of a blur, because from the time the epidural kicked in until I was wheeled out of the OR, I felt like I was having a major panic attack. I could hear my heart monitor machine going so fast, and the people in the room kept consoling me and trying to engage me in conversation so that I would calm down.

I don’t even remember them pulling Julian out of me, but I remember Dom rushing over to the bassinet where they were probably poking and prodding at Julian. Once he was all wrapped up and in Dom’s arms, he brought him over to me, but I couldn’t even open my mouth to say anything. I wanted to jump off of the table and hold my baby and shower him with kisses, but all I could do was cry silently. Dom asked me if I wanted to hold him, and I remember being so mad and thinking “How stupid! Doesn’t he see my arms are taped to this table?” and just shaking my head no.

After that, I didn’t see Julian for a few more hours because the doctors said he was having a hard time breathing. I recovered in a labor and delivery suite and was still really out of it at that point. I can only imagine the things I was saying. Although, I don’t think I was saying much because I was trying so hard to stop shaking and shivering. I think it’s sort of normal to shake after having anesthesia, but this was so bad! I had absolutely no control of my body. I couldn’t move my legs, and the top half of my body wouldn’t stop moving. I felt nauseous and the room was spinning, and everyone was being so loud but I felt like I couldn’t even speak. I just wanted to cry and cry, but I just sat there, probably with a stupid smile on my face. The worst part about all of it was that I was so distracted by my body and the people in the room and the nurses that were poking and prodding me that I don’t even think I asked or wondered where Julian was.

When I was finally feeling better, I was moved to the maternity ward, where the pediatrician finally let me know what was going on. He told me that Julian would have to be brought to a nearby hospital to be monitored more closely because of his breathing. He predicted that he would only be there until the end of the week, and assured me that Julian was doing well.

Shortly after, they brought him into the room inside of a huge incubator on wheels, which he would be transported to the other hospital in. They lowered it so I could “see” him, but since I had no ability to use my abdominal muscles and the incubator was still too high, I barely caught a glimpse of him behind all the wires and tubes he was hooked up to.

He wasn't a tiny baby. At 35 weeks gestation, he weighed 6 pounds and 11 ounces and was 19 inches long. They told me when they gave me 2 steroids a few weeks earlier that his lungs would probably be developed enough for him to be healthy. Nobody warned me that this would happen.

To be continued...