Here is the story of how my daughter, Mettelynn Miracle Kamsiyochi Olson-Okonkwo, arrived into this world. The littlest girl, with the biggest impact on her mommy and daddy’s heart.
On February 13th, we had a prenatal appointment to see the baby, and check in with the doctor. It was supposed to be a typical appointment; we were going to go over the details of being induced, and then head on home.
At 3:45 we checked in to the clinic.
At 3:55 all of my vitals were taken and we waited for the doctor to come to the room.
At 4:00 the doctor rolled in the ultrasound machine to see how the baby was doing. As I laid on my back watching the baby move around on the monitor, I watched as the doctor went over the heart chamber to listen to the heart beat, and mine almost stopped.
Her heart chambers were moving so slow; the doctor didn’t even bother counting the heartbeat. She immediately told me to lay on my side, and she checked again. Baby’s heartbeat was still too slow. Then she had me go on all fours, as she quickly left the room.
I knew that this was bad. Before the doctor came back in I texted my family and told them that the baby was coming, and I called my best friend and told her to head on down to the hospital and I will give her details in a moment.
The doctor came back in and said she had called the hospital, and that they knew I would be coming soon. She told me she thought that the baby was laying on the umbilical chord, and even though staying on all fours brought the baby’s heartbeat almost back to normal, it was too close and too much of a risk to wait any longer. I was going to have the baby that day.
At 4:10 we left for the hospital. The doctor firmly told us to go straight to the hospital, and that even though our apartment was only 8 minutes away, we would not have time to go to get our hospital bag.
As soon as we got there, they started me on fluids and oxygen to see if the baby’s heart rate would get better, it slowly started getting better, but the doctors and nurses confirmed I was having the baby today.
At 6:15 they started me on Pitocin, and the contractions started kicking in.
At 7:00 the anesthesiologist came in and talked to me about an epidural. My birth plan had always been to get the baby out as safe as possible, and with as little pain to me as possible. The anesthesiologist told me the benefits/risks of an epidural, as well as what would happen if they needed to do an emergency c-section.
At 7:35 my mom, dad, brother, and best friend arrived to the hospital.
At 8:30 they broke my water, and I laughed as I peed myself in front of a bunch of strangers and family members.
At 9:30 my contractions were starting to kick in, and it was a pain I could not even imagine. I told the nurse to get me the epidural, and honestly the pain of them doing the insertion of the needle, the numbing solution, and feeling them move around in my spinal chord, was nothing compared to the contractions.
At 10:00 every contraction was less and less painful, but they watched the baby’s heart, and with every contraction her heart rate fell afterwards. They kept me on oxygen to see if that would help.
At 10:20 I had my dad, brother, and husband go eat some food in the family lounge, and my best friend told my husband he would have time to rest because I was going to take a nap quick to try and get some rest.
But at 10:24 I heard her heart drop again, and before anything had happened, I looked at my best friend and said “go get Mu”. Within 30 seconds, the nurse had hit the big blue button on the wall, and doctors and nurses started flooding into the room. They started all yelling numbers and I they told me I was going into an emergency c-section. They barely had me detached from all my monitors and IVs before they wheeled me out of the room to the operating room.
I saw my husband in the hallway and could not find words. I just looked at him and cried. They rushed me past him, and all of a sudden I was in a bright room, surrounded by strangers, as monitors were put on me, and they put up that infamous blue drape.
I cried, I cried so hard I couldn’t even process what was happening. My body started shaking so bad I was wondering if I was having a seizure, but then I realized it was only my hands shaking from the nerves.
All I could do was keep asking for my husband, and try not to cry any harder. When my husband entered the room I just wanted to cry harder, this was not what I had imagined at all. They started the incision and I felt the pressure of them moving around my organs, they told me I was doing great, although I felt like I was just laying there, helpless, with a half functioning body.
And at 10:42, my daughter entered this world, and as they dropped the blue drape and showed me my hairy little cone head baby, I cried even harder. I couldn’t hold her, there was still a clear drape separating us, all I could do was press my hand to the plastic and try not to cry even harder.
They took her away, and had my husband go with and cut the umbilical chord. But there I laid, cut open and helpless, as they sewed me back up.
Everyone has a “birth plan” going into the delivery, and mine was to get her here as safely as possible. But what I didn’t realize was that I had a “birth expectation” as well.
I always thought I would have some sort of power in pushing in the delivery, and instead I just laid there as they cut me open like a frog in an 8th grade science class.
I always thought I would have a room full of people coaching me on as I push her out of me, and that the pushing would progress and then with one final push she would be here, and instead I just felt them moving around inside of me, and waiting to here for a cry, there wasn’t the buildup of knowing “this is it, one more push and she’s here”.
I always thought that I would have my baby put on my chest right after, and would be the first one to hold her, and instead I only saw her thru a plastic drape as a team of people and my husband took her away before I could even feel the warmth of her on my chest. I laid there as I heard her little cry fill the room, and there was nothing I could do.
I always thought I would get to see the look on my husband’s face as he cut the umbilical chord, but instead, I didn’t see any of it, as I laid there with a blue drape shielding me from what was going on all around me.
That blue drape took away more from me than I would have ever expected.
My baby girl was here safe, but I felt like I had no part in her arrival. Her birth has been traumatizing for me to look back at, because it was the biggest life experience I have ever had in life, and all I want to do when I think about it is cry. And I didn’t want to cry about the scar that I will now forever have, or that I will have a harder recovery while the stitches heal. I wanted to cry because after 39.5 weeks of carrying her, and watching this little miracle grow from a few cells to this beautiful little human, I felt like I had no part in her delivery, because I couldn’t do it myself.
But with family, friends, and a great nursing staff, I have been able to truly acknowledge that an emergency c-section is still a delivery, and that my birth plan was always to just get her here safely. I brought a beautiful girl in to this world, and no expectation or voice in the back of my head will ever change that.
I am doing better now, and the infinite amount of snuggles Mettelynn gives her daddy and I make me forget the voice in the back of my head telling me I didn’t do anything in the delivery.
I am so lucky that she is here, and am so grateful to my family and friends who have helped me up to this point.
Be yourself; everybody else is taken,
Mama Mir
1 comment
What a beautiful and heartfelt story. I have seen you on tictoc and purchased a few things and a couple of patterns to start to crochet again. I’m very rusty. It’s been years. You are a true inspiration to this 71 years old lady and you are so beautiful. As well as your beautiful daughters and creations. Take care 💕