The first time that I can remember feeling totally frozen with fear was on a family vacation to Hawaii, about 5 or 6 years ago. We went bowling (in re-telling this story, my sister-in-law was confused as to why we'd go *bowling* in Hawaii. I am not really sure. It must have been raining. Or nighttime. Or... I don't know.) We were having a grand old time, making bets (my brother cannot play any sort of game without betting on it) and talking smack about my patented between-the-legs grandma bowling style* when my mom walked up to the line to bowl. She wound up, her arm swung back, and in what seemed like slow motion her shoes slipped out from under her and she flew backwards like a cartoon. Except in the cartoons, a when Wile E. Coyote slips on a banana peel and goes flying over backwards, his skull doesn't make a sickening crack when it hits the ground. The crack sounded as loud as lightening, and my brothers and I stood there frozen for what seemed like a very long time while my mom lay there, not moving.
She was fine. We carefully finished our game, made jokes about no more drinking while bowling. But for that split-second, we were just frozen in place, unable to process the potential consequences of what had just happened. Head injury. Skull fracture. Concussion. Coma. These are the things that flew into my head. I was completely paralyzed.
*I used this method again last weekend and totally tied my bet-loving brother, so there. It works!
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The second time I can remember feeling the same sort of unable-to-react horror was during the car accident, two and a half years ago. Again, it felt like time slowed down and I had an eternity to consider what was happening. The car was moving in the wrong direction. I could hear glass breaking and metal tearing. We were crashing and there was absolutely nothing I could do. I'm going to die in this car, I thought. This is what it feels like.
I was not exactly fine, but I didn't die in that crash. No one did. It was OK.
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The third time I experienced that paralyzed, refusing to comprehend yet at the same time processing a million terrible possibilities, terror was on Tuesday night last week. At the second session of our Prepared Childbirth Class. When, after what I thought was an unnecessarily detailed description of the four degrees of vaginal tearing, the instructor moved on to All About Episiotomies and Joel passed out cold.
Typing it there, it sounds almost funny. It's like a sitcom! Dad-to-be passes out in the delivery room, hilarity ensues! Turns out it's not all that funny when it's actually happening to you in real life.
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Tuesdays are a hectic day, and neither of us has time to go home between work and the class, which starts at 7:30pm. Since February, I've been leaving work early on Tuesdays so that I can drive up to Towson and go to a 4:30pm yoga class. It's a pain in the ass and it makes for a very long day, but as part of our teacher training we're required to attend one class taught by the studio owner a week, and this is the only one she teaches that isn't hot yoga. Normally I love hot yoga, but I've been trying to avoid it while I'm pregnant. So I negotiated a modified work schedule and I schlep up to Towson once a week now.
Last week we also started our Prepared Childbirth class on Tuesday evenings. I have enough time to change after yoga and drive directly to the class, but not enough time to go home and shower. Or eat dinner. Tuesdays have become a sort of marathon day, where I leave for work at 8am, go to yoga from 4:30-6pm, and then go to the childbirth class from 7:30-9:30pm. It sucks, but it's only for four weeks.
Joel normally works until 7 or 7:30pm, so making it to the class on time is difficult for him too. The first week, he had just enough time to stop home and pack us some cheese and crackers to snack on during class. But last week we had no snackable food in the house. When we got to the hospital, we briefly toured through the cafeteria to see what sort of dinner or snack options it might offer. I was this close to buying some chicken fingers for us to share (I like to make healthy food choices when I'm on the way to a class about caring for my unborn child), but then I saw the price. Five dollars for four chicken strips, you have got to be kidding me! No way, I'll just wait, I said. I asked Joel if he wanted anything. "Well, I thought we were going to share some chicken fingers..." Oh! Well, in that case, the breakdown was only $2.50 each, and while I'm not willing to spend $5 on a snack for myself, I'm willing to split a $5 snack. But honestly, would four chicken strips be enough for both of us? No, better get the six piece. Which is SEVEN DOLLARS OH MY GOD. No, we'll just wait. (This is how my brain works.) I had a yogurt in my purse, and I'd been careful to eat two bananas and one of those 90-calorie granola bars over the past couple of hours to stave off the wolf-hunger that hits me when I go too long without a snack. I handed Joel my spare 90-calorie granola bar and we went up to the conference room.
This week's class topic was (TMI alert) vaginal delivery. It was not exactly for the faint of heart. We watched a video that included footage of an actual birth, full frontal and up close. I... really did not need to see that. And then we started talking about labor. Hours and hours of labor. Contractions. They don't feel good, apparently. More contractions. Contractions followed by contractions with a 30-second break in between, being in horrible pain for hours. I was displeased, to say the least. I know that this is all going to happen. I KNOW. But I don't really think it's necessary to spend 20 minutes driving home the fact that HEY, CONTRACTIONS ARE AWFUL, SUCKS TO BE YOU LADIES. I know I am going to go through this and I'm OK with it... as long as I don't think too hard about it. I will survive it just as generations before me have survived it, except I have the benefit of drugs. Which I will be taking lots and lots of. I am quite proud of the fact that, except for one dose of Tylenol and my prenatal vitamins, I have not taken a single pharmaceutical during this pregnancy. I feel that this buys me a guilt-free pass to take every legal drug available during labor. (Again, this is how my brain works. I am much better at suffering through the long-term, chronic discomforts of pregnancy than I am with the acute pain, so I will do my very best to be healthy and all natural and all that hippie bullshit during pregnancy, and then during labor: I want drugs. ALL OF THEM. And this rationale makes me feel like labor is going to be OK. If I am wrong, I really don't want to know about it.)
And then after we got done talking about how long and difficult labor is for first-time mothers, we got to the part about (TMI! TMI!) vaginal tearing. First degree, second degree, third degree, fourth degree. "You'll need a LOT of stitches and you won't be sitting down without a donut for a couple of weeks," the nurse teaching the class chirped. "And now let's talk about episiotomies!"
And that's when Joel got up and walked out of the room. To go to the bathroom, I assumed. A few seconds later we heard a crash in the hallway. I thought it sounded like someone had crashed one of those wheeling beds in to the wall. I hope they didn't crash that bed right into Joel, I thought. In the seconds that followed the nurse continued talking, but there was just silence from the hallway. No sounds of a wheeling bed continuing down the hallway. Nobody apologizing for crashing or almost crashing a bed into my husband. (Why did I assume it a wheeling bed? I don't know.) Ten seconds probably passed before the instructor and I realized at the exact same moment that something was not right. We both flew out our chairs and went to the hallway, where we found Joel crumpled in a lifeless heap on the floor. My brain immediately began both processing and denying, and I was just frozen. Over and over my brain repeated, this is not real. This is not happening.
I snapped out of it within a second and was on the floor shaking Joel's shoulder trying to wake him up. After a few moments he opened his eyes and looked at me, confused. "Are you OK?" I asked. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, looking completely baffled as to why I'd ask. Then his eyes rolled back into his head, his mouth started to move without making any sound, and he went completely limp again. "Has he ever had a seizure before? Is he diabetic? Does he have any health problems?" the instructor asked urgently as she rapped on his sternum with the knuckles of one hand and slapped his cheek with the other. "No!", I responded. "He's healthy!" Except for the fact that he is completely lifeless at the moment, my brain added silently.
It felt like a really long time, but Joel eventually came to and was again completely confused as to why we were standing around him asking him if he was OK. He was fine, he insisted, he just wanted some air. It wasn't some kind of macho, nothing-hurts-me protesting. He didn't understand why I was worried, why everyone was standing in the hallway looking at him. He felt like he needed come out in the hall for some air, and now he was out in the hall getting some air. What's the big deal? That scared me even more. He had no recollection of collapsing. He'd started to sweat through his t-shirt and he had the pallor of a corpse, but he kept insisting he felt completely fine.
So, spoiler alert: Joel is OK. We were in a hospital, our class contains two doctors in addition to the nurse teaching it, and about fifty more doctors were immediately called. We were issued a free wheelchair ride down the elevator to the ER, where his vitals were checked and I had the privilege of using the most disgusting bathroom I have ever encountered, including port-a-potties (hey, turns out that spending five minutes convinced that your husband is going to die is an instant cure for pregnancy constipation!). After a second nurse checked his blood pressure she gave us two options: be officially checked in and wait to see a doctor -- with the approximate wait time being six hours -- or go home. We opted to go home. After a brief discussion about how I did not feel it was a good idea for him to RIDE HIS BIKE HOME (omg), that is.
"Don't you agree that it's not a good idea for him to ride his bike home right now" I asked the second nurse while she was taking off the blood pressure cuff.
"Ride a bike? Why would he ride a bike right now?" she asked.
"Because that's how we got here."
"How on earth are you still riding a bike?" she asked, eyeing my belly.
"Well, I didn't bike [although I do still ride my bike for shorter, non-hilly trips thankyouverymuch]; I rode an adorable motor scooter. That's not the point, don't you agree he should just walk?"
"Oh, we don't recommend walking in this neighborhood."
OMG. She REFUSED to back me up. Instead of getting into the fact that I know EXACTLY what kind of neighborhood this is, you know, since I work across the street and waddle my pregnant ass in here on foot every damn day, we left and got a Sprite from the vending machine in the cafeteria. After Joel pounded the Sprite and I tried one more time to convince him that riding his bike home was not the brightest idea, can't we just walk, we departed -- Joel on his bike and me riding the adorable scooter alongside. We made it home (on a bike, it's only a 5-minute downhill ride) and I then forced him to chase that cafeteria Sprite with a huge glass of lemonade and a bowl of cereal. Joel went to bed complaining that he felt uncomfortably full from all that liquid and I was quite pleased with that. So pleased that I only woke up about ten times during the night to make sure he was breathing.
Awesome Joel! That makes my husband look like a rock (he passed out during my first internal ultrasound) (and had bloody abrasions) (from the carpet).
Episiotimies DO SUCK and theee worst is going to the bathroom. Trust me, if you get one, TAKE THE PAIN MEDS and pee in the sitz bath. You probably don't know what that means now, but you will. Just fill it up with warm water and pee in it. I hope you never have to use that information.
Love you! It's all worth it, TRUST ME!
Posted by: HollowSquirrel | Wednesday, June 22, 2011 at 04:09 PM
OMG so scary. I'm SO GLAD that Joel is okay. And SO IRRITATED that the nurse didn't say, "No biking. We will call you a cab or I will drive you home myself."
I hope this was a one-time only thing that NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN.
Posted by: Life of a Doctor's Wife | Wednesday, June 22, 2011 at 04:34 PM
Oh my word, that is scary. Bart has passed out probably five times (always at hospitals), but never in my presence and I am suddenly feeling very glad I've never been there to witness it.
Also, nothing annoyed me as much as people asking about my birth plans because, um, my birth plan was pretty much "get to the hospital and get drugs." And, hey, it worked out fine.
AND, I think it's a great design that you can't actually see your baby being pushed out. I'm glad my head and eyes are far away from that end.
Posted by: Janssen | Wednesday, June 22, 2011 at 05:11 PM
I completely freeze in situations like that, too, and I always feel awful afterwards--like I should have done something more helpful than just standing there, frozen in panic. I've seen Tim pass out before, and it's one of the most awful feelings in the world to see that happen and not be able to do anything about it. It sounds to me like you handled the situation really well.
Tim does not do well with hospitals, needles, blood, or really any of the things that are prevalent during labor and delivery. He's very concerned about getting through "the blessed event" and remaining conscious. Definitely something we need to discuss with our doctor and see if she has any suggestions on how to help him through it.
Posted by: Audrey | Thursday, June 23, 2011 at 09:19 AM
Seriously, with the bike riding. I'm sure that nurse was harried and all but... really? With a possible head injury? Surely there was a way other than blatant rudeness. I'm glad Joel is okay and still breathing.
Posted by: RA | Thursday, June 23, 2011 at 09:36 AM
In any case, have you talked about feeling faint during labor? My husband is super twitchy about blood and I was worried he'd pass out during delivery. We chatted and I told my midwifery practice, just so they'd know ahead of time.
When I delivered at University of MD, he stood near the head of bed with a chair behind him, just in case. But he did just fine. I think actual adrenaline of the event kept him busy; too excited to meet our daughter.
No matter what your pain med preference, I would (as nicely as possible, not trying to be assvice-y) recommend trying to think about some coping mechanisms. If you choose an epidural, you won't get it right away even if you're dilated since you need fluids and it takes a bit for anesthesia to arrive. You can get some IV meds but you'll still need to wait for complete pain relief.
The discussion about how terrible and awful it is isn't a great labor modality. Acknowledge the suck and move on to coping, breathing, etc. Knowing what might happen is great but too much focus on the negative is bound to frighten. I didn't have my kid at Hopkins because I found them a little too focused on the scary! blood! pain! aspects of things.
Posted by: Melissa | Thursday, June 23, 2011 at 04:48 PM
Oh Joel. That is my fear. I keep asking Brooks if he thinks he will be okay. And the thing is I think he thinks he will be fine BUT this is the guy that won't donate blood because he is nervous about passing out since a vile or two is about all he can handle when he has blood drawn.
I almost passed out twice (different occasions) during blood donations. I kind of think this is a good thing because now I know how to prevent passing out.
Brooks was in the ER once and when I came in he was strapped down to a body board, his head was wrapped up and his clothes had been cut off. I thought I was going to pass out so I told him that I had to run to the bathroom real quick so that I could go in there and take in lots of oxygen. Shew. I still had to sit down.
So while my dear husband thinks he is going to be all strong and tough, I think that seeing his wife in a slightly overwhelmed and bleeding state is going to be more than he expects.
I watched a vaginal delivery on YouTube shortly after becoming pregnant (don't do this!) and started crying because of the ripping, tearing and blood. I had to look away a few times but I forced myself to keep watching so that I would really know what happens down there. Needless to say, watching one was enough...
Posted by: Stephanie | Friday, June 24, 2011 at 08:59 AM
Oh my GOODNESS!! I'm so glad he's okay! I'm also in shock that the nurse was okay with him biking home. That seems incredibly unwise :/
Posted by: Angela Noelle | Friday, June 24, 2011 at 01:33 PM
I know I'm supposed to be frightened and concerned about Joel passing out...but I can't help but giggle. Sure, it had a lot to do with a stuffy room and low blood sugar, but in a few years this story will be priceless! :)
xox
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