Klaudia Marie Hey born January 17, 2008 at 5.50am
7 lbs 12oz 19 inches
My water bag broke at about 1pm on Wednesday, January 16. Len and I were at the gym in our apartment complex. We went there so that I could walk on the treadmill to basically speed up the labor. Klaudia was already 14 days overdue and our doctor was NOT happy about it.
All my doctor appointments had gone very well so far. My blood pressure was always in a normal range; the little one’s heart beat was perfect. There was one incident on December 26, when Dr. Burke checked the baby’s heart beat and it was exceptionally slow (it wasn’t too slow to be alarmed, but slower than usual). She sent me to the hospital for the non stress test. I remember being very nervous driving there because I didn’t know what to expect. I already saw myself having a C-section and being in the hospital without Len’s knowing about it. Everything turned out to be OK. During the test Klaudia’s heart beat was normal, and the nurse – Elizabeth; whom I knew from a previous test a couple of weeks before – told me that the baby must have fallen asleep earlier. They kept me in the room for a bit longer than I predicted. Poor Len was trying to reach me, so by the time I left the room, Len was already on the phone with the nurse trying to find out if we were OK.
For the first 7 months I was going to see my doctor, Dr. Adams/Zaglin, once a month. During the 8th month, I was there twice a month, and the last month I was expected to be there every week. Dr. Zaglin works with four other OBGYNs who could possibly be there to deliver our baby when the time comes. However during the last month of my care, I received a note from Dr. Zaglin saying that some other doctors may deliver my baby depending on when I come to the hospital. I wish I had known about it at the beginning of my pregnancy when I decided to stick with Dr. Z (just so that somebody that I knew could deliver our baby) and drive for an hour each time to see her.
One of the 4 doctors that dr. Z was working with was Dr. Ajmaram (I can never remember/spell/pronounce her last name!). I saw her during one of the appointments and somehow our relationship didn’t blossom from day one. So, I saw Dr. Z on Friday (during the last month of the pregnancy), and when scheduling the next week appointment, the front desk lady signed me up for the following Wednesday. While driving to San Mateo for that appointment, I had a few pretty sharp pains down in my belly. Being only a few weeks away from the BIG day, I was hoping that I was getting dilated. I could not wait for the doctor to check for progress.
When I got there, dr. A’s nurse asked me what I was doing there. I told her I was scheduled for an appointment. She said that I was there last week. I told her that this was my 9th month and Dr. Z told me to come every week to which she replied: “Every week, not every 5 days!” I was stunned. Then came another question: “What do you want us to do today then?” At this point, I thought I didn’t want to go home without being checked since I just drove for an hour to get there, so I used my sharp pains as an excuse to get examined.
Dr. A wasn’t in any better mood than her nurse. She asked me what I was doing in her office after having been there just 5 days ago. I told her I was scheduled to be there (I didn’t choose that date myself) and plus I was just having some pain and I was wondering if she could check if there were any changes to my cervix. That’s when she looked at me with a weird smile on her face and said: “What? You think you’re in labor?” Without waiting for my reply, she continued: “I don’t have to examine you to tell you that you’re not. You wouldn’t be able to talk if you were, and … we’re talking.” Anyway, she ended up checking me, and with no surprise, it was the most painful pelvic exam I’d ever had. After this experience I was praying/hoping that Dr. A is off, on sick leave or simply not working on the day of my labor.
My due date, January 2, passed without too much happening and so did Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Len and I were so convinced that the baby would make her debut way before her due date, that we never got a Christmas tree nor gifts. (Well Santa did come and brought me something, but … he forgot about Len!) My next Dr’s appointment was with Dr. Zaglin on Friday Jan. 4. Just 2 days after my due date and we already had to schedule an induction at the hospital. Induction wasn’t something Len and I planned on, but my Dr. wasn’t into listening to me. She had other plans regarding my birthgiving. Each time I opened my mouth to tell her I wasn’t interested in the induction, she kept saying that I will not be induced because I will have a baby before the induction date (Sunday Jan. 13 – 1 ½ weeks after the due date). According to her, 95% of women do, and I’m going to be one of them. My next appointment, only if the baby doesn’t come before then, was scheduled for Friday Jan. 11 – 2 days before the induction.
Len’s parents came to visit for 10 days in the meantime. We were both looking forward to their coming. We don’t get to see each other often, plus now, we were about to have our new addition to show them. We were very excited. I couldn’t wait to learn some tricks from Len’s mom on how to deal with the baby. Len’s parents not only have 4 kids, but Len’s mom has her own daycare and tons of experience with little ones.
Len planned on taking the second week of January off (thinking the baby would be here, or if not, we could spend this time showing his parents around). On the day of my appointment, we planned on going to Napa. Since my doctor is so far away and kind of on the way to Napa, we decided to kill 2 birds with one stone. I was so happy to have everyone with me, since I was getting nervous about talking to Dr. Z about not having the induction on Sunday.
The first thing that Dr. Z uttered in her office was: “So, I’m going to see you at the hospital in a couple of days for the induction.” And that’s when the whole thing started. We asked her if we could wait full 2 weeks before being induced. She said NO giving us a few reasons for it. One of them was that it’s against the hospital’s policy (or something to this matter), second: there is 5% chance that our baby will be born with brain damage, and third: the placenta may not be as nutritious for the baby as it should be. Len asked a good question whether there is a way to check how good the placenta is, to which my doctor replied that she didn’t have a crystal ball to be able to predict that. When len asked if there is a test we could do to check for it, she said: “I thought I just answered that question”. I was very sad that she talked to us this way. We wanted a professional opinion; she didn’t have one for us. After stressing that since all the tests so far were great, we told her we would like to wait with the induction for at least 2 weeks. She admitted that at the end it’s our baby and our decision, but there are a few things we had to do for her if we refuse to come in on Sunday.
One of them was to sign a paper that said that we’re aware of the chance to have a baby born with the brain damage caused by waiting with the induction. Second, I had to agree to be at the hospital every day starting on Sunday for the non stress tests. We agreed to both. It wasn’t fun signing the paper; it definitely made me feel as a bad parent. I signed the paper not because I was stubborn and wanted it my way. I did enough research to know that giving birth two or even three weeks after the due date was not only safe but doing it naturally (without the induction) was the best and healthiest way to go about it. Unfortunately doctors have their own statistics and policies that they go by not allowing the nature do its thing. Going to the hospital every day for the non stress test wasn’t a problem for me. I wasn’t working at that time; and plus each time I went I could see the baby kicking which gave me some sort of confirmation that the waiting wasn’t killing her. Plus, the test measured the amniotic fluid and showed a bit of placenta. If any of these two were below normal, we would consider the doctor’s advice.
Before leaving the doctor’s office, I was also strongly encouraged to schedule another induction – 2 weeks after my due date – Wednesday, January 16 at 8am. Again, we all hoped we wouldn’t have to do it, since only a few women go for so long without having the baby. (I learned later that it’s not a few women, it’s TONS of women who give birth after their due dates – it’s just that the doctors don’t let them and not too many decide to wait on their own. Those who do though, all whom I talked to, had perfectly healthy babies!)
Sunday afternoon, the day I was supposed to be induced, Len and I went to the hospital to have one of the stress tests done. We were in very good spirits since we were about to see our little girl swimming around. However, once we got to the hospital, we were basically attacked by 3 nurses. All of them couldn’t believe that we decided not to be induced and tried to persuade us to stay at the hospital that day and simply try the induction. In a few minutes they managed to brainwash us so well, that at one point Len looked at me and said: “Let’s do it”. That’s when I lost it. I started crying. The nurses told us again about the brain damage and got a new doctor on the phone who even told me that the baby may die if we don’t induce. They did the test and it turned out that the amniotic fluid was way down. Apparently the range is between 0-25. So far mine had always been in 16 or 15. This time it was at 9.8. They said that 8 is when they start worrying, and 5 or below when they don’t let women go home. This was pretty alarming, but again it wasn’t 8 or 5 yet, and there were no changes to my cervix, so I kept thinking that the baby was not ready to come out.
I wasn’t sure what to do. We called Hope, our doula. Her babies (she has 4 of them) were born after their due dates, too. Her first was born 17 days later. She was shocked to hear that it was the nurses who told us most of this stuff and told us to simply leave, go home, and think about it. She reminded me that my doctor scheduled the induction for Wednesday, and I could wait if I wanted to. She told me to go home and relax. We decided to do that, although we had to sign new papers saying that we were aware of the danger (again the brain damage and death of the baby were mentioned).
The following day Len had to go back to work. Len’s mom and I went to the hospital for another non stress test. There was another nurse, another doctor, another story. The first thing the nurse asked me was whether I talked to my husband’s mom about the birth of her son. I told her that Len was born 3 weeks past his due date, and I was born 2 weeks past mine. Her reply to this was: “No wonder your little one is taking her time”. She did the test, and everything seemed perfect. Somehow my amniotic fluid was up at its normal level – 15!!! The baby was moving smoothly, and I had a couple of strong contractions according to the test. The nurse talked to the doctor and told us not to come back the following day, and added that if we decided not to come for the induction on Wednesday, we should come back on Thursday for another test.
That night, even though it was great news, I had a panic attack. I woke up sweating at around 3 am, started crying and couldn’t stop. I kept thinking that the induction date was coming up, and that anticipating it will not help me relax and get ready for labor. Len was (as throughout the whole pregnancy) extremely supportive saying that we may cancel the induction if we have to.
That morning my mucus plug came out although I wasn’t sure if that was it. I imagined it to be kind of a jelly, but it was very watery. In the afternoon I started having contractions, but they were not rhythmic, still hours apart, and not really painful. However, since I saw the progress, I begged Len to call the hospital and cancel the induction. I didn’t want to do it myself; I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to put my foot down. Len had no problems.
The following day – Wednesday, January 16th,– was exactly 2 weeks past my due date. Since the very morning I was determined to do something to speed up the labor. I knew I was running out of ideas to talk to the doctors and keeping myself convinced that what I was doing was right.
First I decided to go for a long walk. Just after leaving the house though, I got a surprising phone call from Dr. Aramwhatever. First it was a Polish nurse on the phone whom I met on Sunday at the hospital (she was one of those who tried to convince me to induce that day). She sounded surprised that I didn’t show up for the scheduled induction at 8am. I explained that we had called the day before and canceled since I was having some contractions and was hoping that the nature would take over. I also told her that the doctor from Monday told me to come for the non stress test on Thursday if I decided not to come for the induction on Wednesday. After consulting with Dr. A, the nurse asked me if I could come to the hospital for the test in an hour or so instead of waiting till the following day. I wanted to be honest with her and told her that I was afraid to go because being convinced again to be induced. And, that’s when she put Dr. A on the phone. Dr. A seemed to be very upset with me. She told me I had to come to the hospital right away. I told her that I was planning on coming the following day for the test. She said that they will not do any more tests on me. She added that when I come to the hospital she would do everything in her power to get the baby out of me as soon as possible. I explained that I was having some contractions, to which she replied that women who are 20 weeks pregnant have the same contractions as me, and they are usually sent home to rest (meaning I WAS NOT in active labor). Then I told her that I was born 2 weeks late, my husband was born 3 weeks late – THIS has no connection with your baby, KATE, she exclaimed. According to her, 30 something years ago, the doctors didn’t know how to calculate the due dates (dumb doctors). She also added that I was a bad mother letting my baby suffer like this, and that I was killing my baby, and that if I wait any longer my baby may be born dead. She finished her monolog by asking me what time I was coming to the hospital. By that time, I was in tears and shaking, and I just wanted to get off the phone. I couldn’t just hang up though. She was at the hospital where I was about to have my baby. I told her I was going to call my husband and ask him what time he could take me there to which she said “bye” and hung up.
Before calling Len (who I knew would be upset about the whole thing) I decided to call Hope first. She said I was ready for the Castor Oil. From the readings I did on Castor Oil, I knew that I could get really sick. Nobody knows how it causes the labor to start, but somehow it irritates the intestines, and a woman who is overdue usually goes into labor within 4 hours after using it. When I got to Whole Foods and asked where they had Castor Oil, the clerk lady asked me if I was inducing my labor. When I confirmed her presumption, she showed me some raspberry tea, too, saying that after having drunk that tea when she was pregnant, she got into labor within 24 hours. I purchased both hoping that one of them would help me start the whole thing.
Hope suggested that I mix the oil with a bit of ice cream making a milkshake out of it. I drank my mixture at around 11am.
Len came home for lunch at around noon and we decided to go for a walk to get things moving. I thought that going to the park was not a good idea since I was about to get very sick, so we decided to use the treadmill at our gym (the bathrooms are right there in case I’d need one). Even when walking to the gym, I could feel this strange pressure in my lower belly. It felt like Klaudia was kicking or stretching. That feeling got a bit more intense when I was on the treadmill, and I joked with Len saying that it would be funny if those were the contractions. We started counting them and they were about 2, 3 minutes long and some of them only 2, 3 minutes apart. I knew it couldn’t be contractions because it would mean I probably was in labor, and the doctor told me I wasn’t. At one point I felt like I needed to use the restroom. I didn’t get sick or anything, but when I came out of the bathroom, I felt warm water running down my legs. I knew right away what it was. My heart started pounding really hard, I looked at Len who was standing at least 20 feet away next to a lady who was working out. I didn’t want to walk towards him because the water was still going, so I asked him nicely: “Can you come over here, please?” to which the working out lady said: “Me?”
When I told Len that my water bag broke, we both couldn’t stop smiling. I knew it was the beginning of a looong but good day.
After getting back home, I called Hope. She recommended eating something, taking a shower and possibly going for a walk to speed the things up. Before going back to work, Len called the hospital asking how long Dr. A was going to be there till. They couldn’t tell us, so we decided to check Good Sam hospital to see if we could go and deliver our baby there. They recommended that we go with our doctor but if I were in active labor and came to Good Sam, they would have to accept me.
At this point, I was as happy as I could be. I knew that the only thing for me to do was to relax. I remember emailing my sister, my boss, and a couple of friends telling them that I was in labor. I remember being hungry at around 4 or 5 but decided to wait for Len’s dad’s special dish that he was making that night. This was my mistake. By the time the dish was done, my body couldn’t take any food any more. I read about it earlier, but totally forgot. I should have eaten when I felt hungry; I had all night of labor ahead of me. By the time Hope came over (around 7.30pm), I was already vomiting. My contractions (still in the form of pressure) were getting more and more intense. But I was getting happier and happier.
Len massaged my lower back which was a huge relief during each contraction. And, as I read earlier, my body was transforming into the labor mode, which made me feel like I was on drugs. Even though I waited for this moment for so long and tried to remember everything about it, only small pieces I can now recall. Time didn’t matter, I was just focused on how my body was working, going from one contraction to another. I kept my eyes closed, so I remember only pieces of conversations between Len and Hope. I remember how they tried to measure/count my contractions. I vaguely recall Hope measuring the baby’s heart rate. Hope also tried to help Len with massaging my back, but it didn’t feel the same. She was putting too much pressure causing more pain. She told me how to breathe through the contractions which was very helpful.
After vomiting a bit, I started making very weird noises during contractions. Hope asked me if I was pushing, but I couldn’t tell. It was about 9pm and Hope decided that it was time to go to the hospital (pushing and vomiting could mean that I was going through a transition – 8-10 cm of dilation – the end of labor, which I was secretly hoping for). Len had his car ready for the ride with the plastic blanket spread in the back seat. However, if he drove, and Hope took her car, that would mean no back massage for me. I asked if we could go with Hope so that Len could continue applying pressure on my back. Even though the contractions were pretty powerful at this point, I was doing fine in between. I remember running to the elevator so that I could get there before my next contraction.
The ride to the hospital wasn’t too painful, although it was somewhat uncomfortable. I couldn’t wait to get there and see how dilated I was. 8 cm would be great, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up (another thing I learn from some books – don’t expect too much or you’ll be disappointed). I remember telling Hope that I was afraid that they would say I was only 2cm dilated, to which dear Hope said: “And that’s OK, we’ll start breathing all over again.”
Emergency room was full of people. Everyone was sitting and waiting. Since we were the only people standing, all eyes were on us (or it felt like it), but it didn’t matter. I just wanted to get to the room and lay down. While Len was answering questions about when my water broke, etc, I went through a couple of contractions. Hope was helping me breathe through them and was massaging my back. When they told us where to go, again, I ran! I was getting more and more uncomfortable and simply wanted to be in a nice cozy room where I could focus only on the contractions and breathing, nothing else.
So, the big moment came. The nurse examined me and said: 4 cm. I was just a little bit disappointed because I knew from now on it would only get more intense, and it was already pretty intense, so I was scared. But my body again didn’t let me freak out. I simply got into the rhythm of my contractions. One of the contractions was so powerful that I couldn’t breath through it and I started pushing making a very strange sound. The nurse quickly took my hands into hers and said: “Kate, look at me, take a breath, hold it, hold it and slowly release.” That was brilliant! She said that by holding my breath for a few seconds, some hormones get accumulated and then released causing the pain to minimize. This was extremely helpful.
The next couple of hours I spent in the bathtub. This was great too. I could relax. I remember falling asleep in between contractions. The only problem that I had was the water temperature. I was getting really hot during each contraction but really cold in between. Poor Hope and Len were having a hard time keeping me satisfied. I remember getting my legs out of the water right after each contraction to cool down a bit, and shivering right after that. Shivering wasn’t fun because it caused my back muscles to contract which was extremely painful.
If I could stay in the bathtub until the end of the ordeal, I would. However, some Lab person kept coming to see if I was ready for a blood draw for which I had to get up and get dressed/covered since it was a male technician. At this point I didn’t care who was in the room and whether I was naked or not. I was in a different world working on getting my baby out where NOTHING else mattered.
After the blood draw, I was checked by the nurse again. 7cm – wow what a progress! That was at around 1am. Between this check and the next, I “danced” a bit holding on to Len and having Hope massaging my back and vice versa. Once I got out of the bath, I had someone massage my back at all times. The back pain would get to the point where it would be still there even though the contraction would be gone. I remember jumping on the ball for a while, walking, kneeling on the bed with my upper body resting on a pile of pillows.
Once I got out of the bathtub, the nurse insisted that I keep two monitors on my belly. I was hoping not to have to do it since it would give me some discomfort. Plus any movement with the monitors hanging on my belly would be very limited. I, on the other hand, wanted to keep walking to have the gravitation help me with getting the baby out.
The next check up was at 8cm. At this point another nurse came in and started setting everything up for the baby. I knew I was getting close. An hour later, which it didn’t feel like that long, I was still at 8, and then at 8 again. The nurse noticed changes in the baby's heart rate. That’s when the doctor came in and said that the only way to have my baby out healthy will be through a C-section. I must have been in some serious pain because the idea of getting me numb sounded great although the C-section wasn’t something I planned on. At this point nobody knew why the baby was not coming out, or why she was showing signs of distress.
The doctor was telling me many things that I was trying to grasp in between contractions, but before I agreed to a surgery, I looked at Len and asked how he felt about it. He said that this was the way to go, so we went for it.
Since I knew I was getting the spinal block anyway, I did not want to go through another contraction. Before calling for the anesthesiologist though, my doctor decided to give me tons of papers to sign first. Waiting for the shot was the longest and I think most painful 20 minutes of my labor. Not because the contractions were stronger now but because my mind was already set on getting the drug , and there was no need to try to deal with the contraction.
While I was listening to the anesthesiologist’s warnings about the spinal block’s side effects, I heard the nurse instructing Len and Hope about putting the scrubs on. I was happy they could be in the operating room with me.
For the surgery I had to change the rooms, so I was wheeled through the hallway. Like I mentioned earlier, I had my eyes closed throughout most of the labor, but I remember seeing bits and pieces. I remember seeing very bright lights in the hallway, and also shivering.
When we got to the operating room, we waited for my contraction to go away. The nurse sat me up, and I rested my head onto her shoulder. The anesthesiologist was ready to do his thing, but I made sure that he knew that I was tensed. I know that before each chiropractic adjustment, Len likes when my back is relaxed, and it feels much better to be adjusted with a relaxed back. I was afraid that if my back is tensed during the shot, the doc will have to redo it. He calmed me down though saying that I don’t need to be relaxed. He was right. The shot didn’t hurt at all, and what a relief it was. All the pain (contractions plus back pain) disappeared right away. While lying on the table and being operated on, I could finally feel the tiredness hitting me. I could hardly keep my eyes open. I could hear the doctors chatting admiring my belly muscle tone. Len decided to mention to them, which I thought was pretty funny, that it’s probably because of the marathon I ran last year. A few minutes later I heard them counting the instruments they’ve used during the surgery.
When they took Klaudia out with which they had some difficulties (it turned out, she was coming out face first with her chin down - very unusual position and impossible to deliver naturally), they took her to the NICU right away. Hope followed them with the camera and took some pictures of her.
I saw my baby girl on the camera first. The initial impression was: “She looks like Weronika!” (my sister’s baby who was born just a month ago).
After a few minutes, they brought Klaudia in so that I could take a look at her. We took a couple of pictures, and she got escorted back to NICU. Unfortunately my hands were strapped, so I couldn’t hold her. Plus, the spinal block did a great job numbing most of my body. At this point, the doctors were still working on me.
My anesthesiologist, Dr. Fung, stood right next to me. While the surgeons were chatting, I could feel that my breathing was getting heavier. I’m not sure if I was focusing on it too much causing it to be heavy, but I could definitely tell that something was not right. I mentioned it to Dr. Fung, and while I was talking to him, I realized that I could hardly move my mouth. Then I noticed that I couldn’t swallow which reminded me that sometimes the spinal block may cause it, and that’s why women who get the epidural are not allowed to eat during labor (the drug sometimes affects the woman’s upper body). Not being able to control what was happening to me, I told Dr. F about my worries. He assured me though that there was nothing to worry about. The fact that he was standing right next to my head helped me stay calm.
After one of the surgeons, Dr. Martha, and the nurse wheeled me into the operating room, they put some sheets over my belly and in front of my face to block my view from what they were about to do. However, I could see some of the action in the lights above my head. In a meantime, I was trying to see where Len and Hope were. When I turned my head towards the door, I saw Len sitting on a wheelchair, and Hope standing behind him. Len’s face looked very sad. Hope wheeled him in and placed him right next to my head. I’ll never forget Len’s eyes. Throughout the whole surgery, he did not stop looking straight into my eyes. I thought he would want to see how they take the baby out or even afterwards, just to have a glimpse if she was OK, but he just kept staring at me with teary eyes. At first, I thought that something was wrong. Why is he in a wheelchair? Did he collapse? Why are his eyes watery? Is there something wrong with the baby, something that nobody is telling me? Each time I asked if everything was OK, which I couldn’t really talk because of the spinal block slowly paralyzing my mouth, he would node saying softly: “Everything is fine.”
After I was stitched up, I was taken to the recovery room which was a part of my nurse’s office. There I was hooked up to some monitors that beeped constantly not allowing me sleep and interrupting the nurse do her computer job. I stayed in that room for a couple of hours. Even though I was exhausted and drugged, there was too much going on to just go to sleep. Len kept coming in and out. He finally went to see our baby and stayed with her for a while. He made a phone call to his parents who waited for the news in our apartment since the night before. He got all our belongings from the laboring room (my clothes, a suitcase, our computer, etc). My monitors kept going off indicating that I was dead, so the nurse had to readjust them every couple of minutes. Then I was sponge bathed by a couple of other nurses. During all that going on, I kept dozing off for a few minutes to be interrupted by something else. I didn’t mind all that commotion; I just had a hard time staying awake.
I was told in the operating room that our baby was doing fine (although she received only 3 points in the Apgar scale at birth, but 5 minutes later she was at 9) and that I would be able to have her in half an hour. A couple of hours passed, and she was still in NICU. It must have been the drugs because I was not in a hurry to get her. I knew I wanted to nurse her as soon as possible. That was one of my concerns when we decided on the C-section; I asked the doctor if they could give her to me for nursing right away, but she said that they would first need to evaluate her. Now that she was in NICU, and I knew she was doing well, I was OK with waiting. I knew I would get her eventually. When my doctor came in to check on me, she said that Klaudia is the biggest and the healthiest baby in NICU, and the nurses are having so much fun with her, that they may keep her there a bit longer. I was still numb getting only partial sensation in my left leg. I didn’t mind that Klaudia was taken care of by someone who knew what they were doing.
On the way to my room, where I would stay the next 4 days, the nurses wheeled my bed into NICU. There I saw her lying in her little glassy crib with her eyes wide open. Her face was still swollen, but she was all dressed up and looking at me. She looked so perfect. I could not move much, but the nurses said I could try to touch her. I slowly lifted my fingers and touched hers. Soon after I was taken to my room and promised to see her soon.
The nurses kept their promise this time. They brought Klaudia in her little crib where she stayed for the next 4 days. At around 1pm I tried breastfeeding for the first time. With some help from the nurse, Klaudia latched on pretty easily and had no problems from then on. The milk came in the next day. Nursing my baby for the first time was the most special thing ever. Holding her in my arms triggered this amazing feeling that hasn’t left me since and never will. It’s only getting stronger every single day.
What I loved about staying at the hospital was the care Len, Klaudia and I were showered with by the nurses. As much as I was afraid of going and staying there, I loved it. Klaudia was taken to the nursery every night and brought to me for the feedings. This gave me an hour or two of good sleep. Len stayed with us for most of the time. He brought the computer with the camera, so I was able to see my family back in Poland and show off our new addition. He also brought the projector, so we were able to watch movies. Although the C-section was the last thing on my list, I have to say that the whole labor was a wonderful experience.
