Brynlee Blake Clifton Enters the World

I started the morning of Monday April 18th (2 days past my due date) throwing up...no surprise there. As most of you know, pregnancy was really difficult for me. I was so ready to be done, and I was getting worried because we were moving in just under 2 weeks. I had a doctors appointment and I was desperate to be making some progress.
I had my cervix checked, and I can't remember what I was at at this point, but probably like 1.5 cm. They stripped my membranes and I filled out paperwork to be induced on Wednesday morning if things didn't happen by then. It felt nice to finally know that I had a definite day things would get going, but I did NOT want to be induced. He gave me the option of just going in that day or waiting, but I was set on not having an epidural. So, we waited to see what happened.
All day I felt terrible and could barely keep anything down (what's new, right?). Tuesday morning wasn't much different except around 10 a.m. I was finally having some contractions. It was VERY manageable, but I was having them consistently around 7 mins apart. I got a little serge of energy at some point, and as I said I was desperate, so I decided I was going to go for a walk with Derek and a friend of his from back home who was passing through town. As the walk continued, it got harder to keep walking through the contractions, and by then end I was needing to stop during them. We got back home and I was honestly really wishing the friend would leave (sorry Daylen). Eventually he did and I thought it was probably time to pack my hospital bag (how's that for procrastination?).
By 4 I had been having contractions any where from 3-5 mins apart for well over 2 hours. I was still fairly manageable at this point, but I had been told if I had contractions every 5 mins for 2 hours to come in. I was really nervous about getting sent back home, so I kept putting it off, but eventually we made our way.
When we got there they put me in the room you go in while they decide if they're going to keep you or not. They asked a bunch of questions and monitored my contractions and checked me. Derek made a point that I wanted to do things naturally. When she checked me I was about a 3. Progress, but I was disappointed. She said if I was going to do it without pain meds, that she recommended going home and laboring there until I couldn't handle it any more and then to come back. I was a little embarrassed and nervous, but back home we went.
We tried watching an episode of Sherlock (I think) and I was starting to get antsy. I began squeezing Derek's hand through my contractions. I was having a hard time focusing. I couldn't take it anymore so I decided I'd try a bath (like the nurse suggested) to relax me. Except when you have a normal sized bath tub and you're big and fat and pregnant, only so much of you can fit under the water. If I laid down, my belly stuck out. I tried sitting, still wasn't deep enough. I felt so desperate to get some relief and I think the bath frustrated me more because I really wanted it to help and it just wasn't working. Finally I decided we were going back to the hospital. I think it was around 8 or 9 p.m.
I got put back in the pre-admitting room and waited to get checked. I was ready for an epidural, a little disappointed in myself. I thought, well maybe I'll decide when they tell me what I'm at.
They got the girl who had checked me last time and she checked again. She asked what she had said I was at before, I told her a 3, she said, you might be at a 3.5 now.
I think my heart fell to the floor when I heard that. Surely I had dilated more than that in the last 4 hours or so! At that point I knew I was getting an epidural. If I had been further progressed or had been feeling better (had some food in me) I might have been able to do it, but I knew I needed some relief if I was going to make it through the night and through delivery. Derek kept saying, "no, you can do it! You wanted to do it without," which I am actually grateful for since I told him I really needed him to support me on the decision, but at that point I just felt like I was defeated and letting us both down.
I got admitted and they started getting ready for me to have my epidural. I was pretty nervous because of my scoliosis, I didn't know if it would even work or how things would go. That was the first thing I asked when the anesthesiologist (or whatever they're called) walked in the room. He said I might only get numb on one side and I'd have to tell him so that things would work. He was right. I'm pretty sure I was only going numb on one side. I got nervous. He had to adjust things, but eventually it started working.

It makes sense now, given everything, but I had NO idea I had something left in my back! Like NONE! Not until months later did I see a picture of my back when they put it in and it clicked what had actually happened. I was a little out of it.
That night is a total blur. I didn't feel like I got much sleep, but I must have. The nurses kept saying I was progressing really well, especially after getting the epidural. Apparently most people slow down, but I didn't seem to be.
The next thing I know I'm waking up with this urge to push. It was such a weird feeling. I wasn't in a ton of PAIN necessarily, but I felt very overwhelmed by them. I kept telling myself, "NO! You can't push! You have no idea how dilated you are!" I think I had it in my mind that I would like push a few times and out would be my baby. I was trying to hold it in, trying so hard.
Around 7 a.m. April 19th, they FINALLY came in to check me. I was so glad. They said I was at a 9! HALLELUJAH! I was so excited. I told them I was having a reallllllly tough time not pushing. They talked to my doctor and he didn't want me to push until I was fully at a 10. I told them I needed some more drugs or I couldn't keep from pushing. Apparently I had a button I could push to give me more. Only, my button was broken so it was doing me no good. Any time (which it happened at least like 3 or 4) I needed more (again, not from pain so much, but to keep me under control) they would have to call the anesthesiologist, I'd wait a good 45 mins for them to come, they'd give more, and I'd wait about half an hour for it to kick in. And it would last...oh I don't know, didn't seem like very long.
Eventually my doctor came in to check on me. He told me they needed to catheterize me (which in my head I was seriously screaming THANK YOU, because I felt like I was going to pee my nonexistent pants for like hours) and then still said he wanted the lip of my cervix to be gone before I pushed. I didn't know how I was going to make it.
They kept checking me and checking me and I was just stuck at a 9.
Eventually they asked if I wanted to "practice pushing" thinking maybe that would help me get to a 10. I said YES.
I was a little confused though, I asked, "so I don't have to hold it in?" They told me no (a little like I was crazy) and I was flabbergasted. I had been trying to hold it in this whole time. Looking back, maybe I wouldn't have been stuck at a 9 if I had just listened to my body instead of the dang nurses/doctor (but I love him).
Derek and my mom or a nurse helped to hold my legs while the nurses were coaching me through pushing. It felt a lot better to try pushing, but I was getting tired fast (keep in mind I haven't had any substantial food for close to....36-48 hours and have been in labor for like over 24 hours already). They kept telling me I was making good progress, but looking back, I think they must say that to everyone. "Push, push, push!" "Hold it!" "3, 4, 5, 6" "All the way down to your bottom!" I heard those phrases over and over and over. And pushed, I tried. They asked me if it felt better through the contractions to push, and I said yes, but it is hard work! And I had been laying on a couch, throwing up for 9 months! I was not in shape! I was taking breaks every once in a while, and some random nurse came in and told the other nurses I shouldn't be taking breaks, but should be pushing through every contraction. I hated her in that moment.
I was seriously at 9 cm for hours. They kept warning me the baby would probably be cone-headed because she was in the birth canal for so long. I didn't care, I was expecting that.
They asked me if I wanted a mirror so I could see my progress. I thought it sounded so weird and said no. Plus my eyes were closed most of the time, anyway, so I didn't want to bother.
At some point they said they could see her head and in my mind that meant like....she was almost out (the things your mind does to you while you're desperate to get your baby out). I asked desperately, "DOES SHE HAVE ANY HAIR?!" through my heavy breaths, trying to find some motivation. They said "uhhh....it's kinda hard to tell." Which at the time I thought, "how dumb can you be? Does she have hair or not? It isn't that hard to tell!" Because you know, I thought they could see a head, not like a quarter size tiny part of the head Derek later told me they could see.
I remember at one point smelling something weird and dismissing it. Then later I turn to Derek and ask, "did I poop?" He says, yes you did, but it's okay. Well there ya have it ladies and gentleman. Labor is not a pretty sight. I have no idea how they cleaned it up, or if they did or what. I chose to pretend like I didn't hear it. My dignity was long gone and I didn't care anymore.
During one of my pushing contractions, Derek says, "Come on, Kendra! PUSH!" I loudly stated to him, "I AM!" I was not happy and thought he thought I was just moseying through labor. He likes to tell people I swore at him. I didn't. That's the harshest thing I said to him.
At some point my doctor finally came in to "start the real pushing" and we had my mom go out in the hall. She had been with us up to this point, but we wanted the point when Brynlee came to just be us.
I thought I had been pushing hard, but holy cow things got intense with the doctor. He kept telling me I could push harder and pull my legs back further. I kept thinking, "no, I really can't." After a while of pushing, he stopped and looks at me. He says, "I can tell you're tired. You've been working hard. Do you want me to try to help things along with the vacuum?" Emphatically I replied yes. I was sooo drained. He tried through multiple contractions and it kept popping off her head. I was getting frustrated. The next thing I know I feel this almost gush and everyone is saying she's here. I felt a rush of relief and anxiety all at once.
A tiny cry.
They took my babe over to the little bassinet and away from me. I wanted to cry. I so desperately wanted to see her. They had to suction her out and my heart was racing.
I don't even know when placenta came out, but was relieved to hear that it came out whole and looked like everything was good with it. Dr. Evans said they'd send it to the lab just to make sure everything was normal.
My head kept spinning. I was worried about my baby. I don't think there was any reason to worry, but I still hadn't seen her and Derek was over there taking pictures and I'm pretty sure my mom came in before I even saw her.
I tore. Badly. I started getting stitched up and holy cow it was hurting. I was trying to put on a brave face, but I kept wincing. Eventually Dr. Evans says, "Are you feeling this?!" with a worried tone. I said YES! "Why didn't you TELL ME?! I'll give you some numbing medicine." I can't remember if it helped or not. I was trying to crane my neck to see my babe.
It felt like an eternity. I kept thinking...excuse me, I want my skin to skin. I worked hard for this baby, I deserve to hold her! But I kept waiting. Finally the nurse says, "okay, she's all ready, would you like us to bring her over to you?"
Before I could scream the answer that DUH I wanted my baby! Dr. Evans beats me to the punch and shouts, "NO! I'm almost done here, hold on!" I could've strangled him in that moment. How dare he tell me no.
Soon enough my sweet angel was brought into my arms and it was literally Heaven for me. She was so perfect and my whole heart was bursting. My skinny little babe was finally here and she was all mine, and she didn't even have a cone head.
Oddly enough the maternity ward didn't have any water so it took a day for her and I to really get cleaned up, but we loved each other and she was the best thing to ever happen.

My birth didn't go as I had imagined it, but it is ours, and it is perfect. Brynlee is the biggest blessing in my life and each day I grow to love her more and more. Bryn Babe, welcome to this crazy journey, I hope you can trust me and talk with me. Tell me your struggles and your worries. I will always be here for you to hold your hand and wipe your tears. I hope we can be the best parents for you; you certainly deserve the world.

Brynlee Blake Clifton you are my light.

Release the Momma Bear

The day Brynlee turned 3 months old (Tuesday, the 19th) she started acting finicky and was feeling warm. We finally checked her temperature that evening and she was at 100.6 (looking back this was quite low, but at the time I was worried. Derek went to the store to get some meds while I called the on-call nurse to figure out what her dosage would be. She told me that they really don't worry about fevers unless they are over 104 degrees. I was shocked. She told me to give her Tylenol alternating with Motrin and told me the dosage for both would be 2.5 mL.

When Derek got home from the store, I relayed the information and we looked at the syringes that came with each medication. I had been looking online and everything seemed to say don't give Motrin to kids under 6 months old. The dosage for the Motrin seemed WAY too high, like 2 full syringes. I said we were just going to stick with the Tylenol and that's what we did. We gave it to her and put a cool cloth on her head then put her to bed. She woke up multiple times in the night, but wasn't eating well and we continued to give her medication as needed. Wednesday night she was at 101.8 and things continued.

On the 21, things seemed to be up the up and up and she wasn't having a fever, but still wasn't eating very well or urinating as much. I pumped more this week than I ever have (my frozen milk supply more than tripled). I went to my OBGYN that day and told him about what was going on and what the nurse had said. He made it seem like you should be worried about anything over 102, which seemed more reasonable to me. Friday afternoon her fever came back (under 101). I thought about calling the doctor again and trying to get her in, but remembered what the nurse said and figured they wouldn't do anything.

Then yesterday hit.

I took her temp at 11:30 and she was 102.7. This made me very anxious. I gave her Tylenol and started asking my family what I should do. I called the on-call nurse again (got the same lady) and she asked if I had been alternating between Tylenol and Motrin. I said no, just Tylenol. To which she replied, "Oh yeah, she's only 3 months, you can't give her Motrin." I was NOT happy at this point--not only had she told me last time to give her a medication she shouldn't be having, but Brynlee probably would have overdosed on it if I had just trusted the nurse's word. The nurse didn't clarify if she was talking about Children's Motrin or Infant's Motrin. Naturally with an infant, we got the infant's Motrin. The dosage she gave us was for children's, which was at least double the infant dosage. My momma-bear instincts were already flaring.

The phone call continued.

She went on again about how they don't worry about it until 104, I told her what my OBGYN said, and she said that only for 2 month olds is a fever over 102 a medical emergency. She said if I'm really that worried about it (in what to me was a very condescending tone), I can take her to urgent care, but they'd probably not be able to do anything for me and just tell me to keep doing what I'm doing. Annoyed I said, "So I just let my 3 month old go on with a fever indefinitely? At what point has it lasted too long?" She asked when it had started again and said, "Well I guess if it hasn't started to trend down by tomorrow, I guess you could take her in." I was annoyed and said goodbye.

I felt so dismissed and like I was being silly for being concerned. I checked her temp an hour after giving the Tylenol and she was still 101, so at that point I decided I was taking her in. Derek was working, and I really didn't want to do this alone. Thankfully my mom came with me and we took her to Urgent Care. Already I felt so much more heard than I had been from the doctor's office. The doctor came in and checked her ears, throat, lungs and heart, as well as her lymph nodes. He said my fear: everything looked normal. I hate going to the doctor and being told everything is fine when it clearly isn't. Thankfully he didn't stop there. He said with little girls, especially, but babies with unexplained fevers in general, there are two more things that need to be checked: her urine and her blood to check for infection.

"Unfortunately we can't do that here, so you're going to have to go to the ER."

I felt like I was in shock a little bit. I wasn't ready to take my tiny baby to the ER. But to the ER we went.

We got there and got checked in relatively quickly. I LOVED everyone we saw there. I'm not kidding. People listened to my concerns, validated my worry, and took care of my little girl. We DID wait foreeveeerrrr to see the doctor, but I was okay with it. The nurse asked a bunch of questions, took her vitals, and told the doctor he needed to lay eyes on her and make sure everything was okay. She mentioned that since she was barely 3 months old, they might treat her like a 2 month old, which would mean more tests (I swear she mentioned a spinal tap, which kinda freaked me out), but it would just depend on the doctor.

(Here is my little sweetie looking scared and disgusted at being in this strange ER as she holds on to momma's finger)

When he finally checked her, he repeated what they did at the urgent care, giving the same result: everything looked normal. But then he said next they'd check her urine, but at this point they wouldn't be checking her blood. I was a little surprised by that, but figured we'd see what the urine was like.

When it was finally time to catheterize her, I was feeling really nervous for her. They were getting ready and my anxiety was building as they kept saying it was really hard to see because she's so tiny. They noticed some puss coming out, so they figured this was going to be the culprit of her fever. Luckily, on the first try they got the catheter in and they got some urine; turns out her urine was VERY "dirty" and cloudy.

Although this wasn't a good thing, it was a huge relief to know that we now knew what was going on and could start helping her. The nurse turned to me and said, "good for you trusting your mommy instincts." I know it was simple, but that really meant so much to me.

They gave her a shot of a broad-spectrum antibiotic, and a prescription to pick one up. They'd be culturing her urine and if whatever grew wasn't covered by the prescribed antibiotic, they'd call and prescribe something else. As they were discharging us, they told us if she vomits or has severe lethargy to bring her back to the ER and that she needs to follow up with her doctor this coming week.

We went home and I then had to have the joy of finding a pharmacy that was still open, and of course my phone was dead. It took me about an hour and a half (after begging the people in riteaid to let me use a phone) to finally get her prescription.

I cried as I was driving around looking for it; I guess I had been holding my emotions in, and I was so tired and drained by this point that I just couldn't hold it in anymore.

When I finally got home, Brynlee was feeling REALLY warm and I took her temp: 103.7. I started to feel really anxious again--this was dangerously close to what everyone agreed was a "medical emergency." I gave her tylenol, and held a cool cloth over her head until I felt she was cooling down, and then laid her in her bassinet.

I couldn't sleep.

I stayed up for an hour, checking on her, then finally fell asleep. In another hour, I woke up and peeked in on her. She was wide awake, laying there contently, and gave me tons of smiles when she saw me. She felt much cooler, and I was a little more at peace.

Today she still has not been eating well at all, and slept more than half the day. She's still got a fever and I'm praying that things will start looking better soon. I miss my poor baby girl's happy self. She just isn't the same. And it is no fun pumping medicine into my little baby. She isn't a fan either.

So grateful for doctors and nurses that listened to my concerns and found the culprit of what was ailing my little princess.

Now to find a new doctor to take her to so I don't have to deal with that stupid office ever again.