My version of events

Our baby K-sound (as my SIL Michelle dubbed him) was breech till today. I was adamantly opposed to his breech-ness, because I wanted to avoid a c-section. Something about scalpels slicing into my skin and entrails frightens me a little (and mostly I wanted to avoid the recovery afterwards, because of all this baby's issues. I didn't want my own issues getting in the way, you know?). We were treated to an external cephalic version (ECV) this morning, and because I'm a total nut for medical procedures, I've got to document this one.

I'd half-heartedly tried to get him to flip during the past couple weeks using various methods I found online, but since they mostly involved hanging out partially upside-down, so that my lungs and stomach were squished by fluid and baby, I was less than diligent about continuing any of them. I found a couple videos online of an ECV being done, and the women having the procedure seemed like it was no big deal, like this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6AM6wDwTjmc. She seems so placid--no grimacing, flinching, crying out in agony. So I thought, after watching her, that maybe it'd be a little like a rigorous massage, and I wasn't all that nervous going in today.

Yeah, it's not like that. That woman's either doped up on painkillers, or she's a psycho who enjoys pain, or the doctor's just not pushing very hard. I should've known something was up when almost every medical staff member who came into my room told me to relax about it. Well, I WAS relaxed, till they all started talking like that. So here's how my version went down:

First of all, I had Devin and Christian (the 3-year-old) with me. Christian should've stayed with someone, but I didn't realize it'd take as long as it did. I was thinking 2 hours, tops, and he's come with me to lots of appointments and done great, especially since I started bringing the Backpack of Fun with me. Still, even though Devin was there for emotional support for me, he wound up keeping Christian entertained a lot of the time. It took over 3 1/2 hours. Take it from me, if you ever have to have a version done, find someone for the little kid(s) to hang out with. I wound up squeezing a nurse's hand instead of Devin's, since he was keeping Christian distracted. Hers was tons daintier, too, and I may actually have inflicted a little damage....

I'd been thinking it'd go something like this: bare belly, ultrasound to check position, shove baby up and over, monitor his heart rate, go grab a burger at Red Robin. Nope. Not exactly. When we got there, I was asked to strip and don an airy hospital gown. Anytime one of those gowns is involved, you know you're in for some good times. Then they checked me in as an inpatient, got an IV going, and took some blood (all of this in case something scary happened and baby K-sound needed to be taken by emergency). This was starting to feel like a little bit bigger deal than I'd anticipated. They explained the procedure, I signed some consent forms, and a resident came and checked baby's position with an ultrasound, and a nursing student came and watched everything and listened to my lungs and checked my reflexes and junk. When you go to a teaching hospital, you get lots more involvement and observing from seemingly random people than you would elsewhere. Fine by me. I'm no prude.

I signed some more forms, and then waited. For quite a while, actually. I got to listen to and watch baby's heartbeat, and watch the strength of contractions, on the monitor next to me. Devin took Christian for a little walk because I was afraid he was getting antsy (Christian, not necessarily Devin), and I wanted to avoid a meltdown in the middle of the procedure (from either one of them). As they were roaming, I got some Fentanyl (a painkiller similar to, but more potent than, morphine. AH-HA! I figured that explained the psycho lady's calmness during her version. I asked for the smallest dose, because I'm particularly sensitive to pain killers) in my IV, and a shot of terbutaline in the arm (to relax the uterus so it wouldn't contract while they were smashing on it).

Just about the time the Fentanyl took effect (which I knew had happened as soon as I felt like I was floating and nothing was real anymore) an audience of scrubs-clad people filed into the room. A nurse, an ER doc whose aspiration is apparently obstetrics, a resident, a fellow, a nursing student, and an OB. One of them did another ultrasound, and they discussed things amongst themselves, and I'm pretty sure I cracked a couple jokes, because that's what I do when I'm hopped up on stuff, or when I'm nervous or in pain. I still felt nervous, too, in spite of the drugs. But it was a good nervous, a happy nervous, and a funny nervous.

So then when they figured out their plan of action--which included lubing my belly up with gel--they told me they were going to start shoving on me so hard I'd feel like my skin was tearing and probably all my ligaments and other abdominal tissues, too. Actually, they should have told me that so I'd be ready for what was coming, but all they said was that I'd be feeling some pressure and some pain. Quite frankly, it hurt like the fiery depths of hell. These 2 female doctors were small, and yet surprisingly strong (is there a strength-training program specifically designed for physicians, I wonder?). They put their hands around the baby and pushed till their arms shook from the effort, never slackening or releasing, so baby wouldn't slip out of their grasp. Apparently, I did super awesome--I know because that's what they told me. I don't remember swearing or kicking anyone or even drawing my breath in sharply. I know I cracked a couple more jokes, though, very quietly and with my eyes closed, so that was Devin's clue that I was in mega-pain. Oh, I should probably write an "I'm sorry" note to the sweet nurse who offered to let me squeeze her hand. As I said, she was dainty, and I squeezed hard. All of the effort I put into keeping my tummy relaxed I diverted into squeezing her poor little hand.

So after they quit pushing and I quit seeing stars, they did another ultrasound to check the little mister's position. After all that, his head was smack-dab in the middle of my belly. What the...? They all seemed very amused by his antics, but me, I knew this only meant they'd have to shove and brutalize some more. Apparently he was all in a ball. So they decided they'd try turning him the other direction, but no matter how hard they shoved that way, he wouldn't budge. Back to the drawing board... OK, let's try one more time turning him the first way, and this time, we'll give it all we've got. What? You mean you've got more brute force in reserve??? Alright, I guess let's just go for it. (They actually asked me if I was ready. I don't remember saying yes.) So again they pushed, again I focused on the hand-squeezing and tummy relaxing, and again I saw stars all around. I don't think I cracked any jokes this time, though. I just focused on those stars and the hand-crushing. They told me over and over again how great I was doing, and I wanted to ask how they figured that--do other women make primal, guttural noises or scream or something? And if they do, do the nurses tell them they're doing crappy and to get a grip? Maybe they'll use me as an example to the loud, wussier women who come after me--"I don't see why you're making such a fuss. This lady was in here the other day for the same thing, and all she did was close her eyes and crack jokes."

So, eventually, they felt like he was head-down, and another peek with the ultrasound machine confirmed he was. Hooray! So they monitored his heart rate for about 30 minutes (with me sitting up to encourage him to stay head-down) to make sure he'd tolerated it all well, and the Fentanyl wore off, and my round ligaments hurt like a mother for about 15-20 minutes--which they would, I suppose, after being torn to shreds like they were. And then, when they were satisfied he was doing OK, I got to ditch the gown, get dressed, and be released to Red Robin for that burger I'd been craving (oh, I forgot to mention I'd been fasting since 8:00 the night before). So far, no bruises have appeared. If I develop some gnarly ones, I'll be sure and post a picture! Ha! So, actually, this procedure (for anyone who might one day be facing one) was extremely uncomfortable and even hellishly painful, but in all, the suffering only lasted a total of about 15 minutes. Totally doable!

The next step is a non-stress test on Monday (like I've been having for weeks), and a routine visit next Thursday with my high-risk OB (followed by another NST), and then an induction is scheduled for 7:30 am Monday, April 4th! That's 11 days from now! I need to figure out what to do with my other kids. And buy a car seat. And all kinds of other stuff I've been putting off.... I'm just gonna hope and pray this little boy keeps his head down till then (they told me there's only a 3-5% chance he'll revert to the breech position. He does like to defy odds, but maybe this time....)