Since starting with the cardiovascular system, we’ve slogged through respiratory physiology, the renal system (bleh), gastrointestinal physiology, metabolism, nutrition, endocrine physiology, and now we are just about to start our reproduction block (how’s that for timing...).
 |
| Image politely stolen from here |
So far, school has continued to go pretty well. Physiology has been, for the most part, an enjoyable class. It’s not like there is a ton of practical medicine contained within those hallowed PowerPoint slides, but you’ve got to start somewhere and it’s definitely more applicable than something like the molecular biology and genetics course we started out with. Immunology has also been surprisingly interesting. It’s one of those classes where getting the big picture is essential, but once you’ve got that down things start falling into place and making a lot more sense. Also, we’ve got less than a month left in our first year of medical school, which is awesome.
But the most exciting development in the past few weeks has been the arrival of our son. He was actually a little late, going by estimated dates and whatnot, since he finally rolled into town at 41 weeks. We actually thought he might come at least a couple of weeks sooner – my long-suffering wife had started feeling nauseous, really tired, and having more frequent Braxton-Hicks. Anecdotally, those things sometimes point towards impending labor, which was exciting. Of course, the weekend that she started feeling these things was the weekend before an extremely front-loaded test week, so we were crossing our fingers (or at least I was) that we’d be able to make it past at least two of the three exams we had that week before our son decided to arrive.
Make it past the tests we did. We also made it through the rest of the week, and the next weekend, and the rest of next week, and… you get the idea. Be careful what you wish for and all that, I suppose.
Finally, last Friday, we had another routine appointment at the hospital. My wife was a little bit dilated, which was exciting. Afterwards, they wanted my wife to have a non-stress test, just to assess fetal health since she was a couple of days past 40 weeks. The test involves her belly being hooked up to devices that measure the fetal heart rate and indicate whether or not she is having a contraction. Just like when we stand up or something and our heart rate increases a bit to compensate for it, when a baby is turning circles in his mother’s womb his heart rate should also go up. The test is basically looking for that to happen a certain number of times within 20-30 minutes. It’s a pretty basic screening test, though – if it’s “reactive,” or if the heart rate increases like it’s supposed to, then everything’s usually fine. If it’s “non-reactive,” though, or the test says that it didn’t pick up the heart rate changes, it’s actually wrong a little over half of the time.
Our test on Friday, of course, was non-reactive. It didn’t help that the nurse we had, while nice, was obviously new and wasn’t really doing much to inspire any confidence. We knew things were probably fine (my wife could feel him moving around quite a bit), but as a follow-up test they do something called a biophysical profile – basically an ultrasound where they measure various criteria and assign the baby a score that describes fetal health – the higher the better. Our son got the highest score possible, which was reassuring. That said, it turned into an unexpected four-hour hospital visit.
The doctors at the hospital wanted us to come back in on Saturday for another non-stress test, just to make sure things were fine. That one was fairly quick and painless, which was good. We had a fairly relaxing day on Sunday (with lots of walks! Walking is one of those things that is supposed to speed things along, so we spent a lot of time walking in the last couple of weeks).
On Monday, we had another follow-up appointment at the hospital. Everything was still looking good, but my wife hadn’t really progressed much since Friday. Which was fine, except having a large child inside of her belly was quickly getting really old, really fast. She spent most of Monday doing everything she could to get things going (massage, acupuncture, walking, various positional changes, etc.). Finally, Tuesday morning, she felt like her water might have started leaking. She really honestly wasn’t sure and otherwise felt fine (and we found out later it was really a pretty small leak), so she and her mother (who had flown in a few days earlier) went to the hospital to get checked on, honestly expecting to be sent back home. Since we thought that she would likely end up coming back home, and I had an exam that day at school, I went in that morning but kept my phone close. Before I got a chance to take the exam, though, they called and said it was in fact her water that had started to break. Finally!
I grabbed my stuff and headed out the door. For whatever reason, today of all days was one of the darkest, stormiest days we had had for a while. To get to the hospital, I was driving into the heart of the gloomiest-looking thunderstorm I had ever seen. Which was fine, except that when I got there it was raining cats and dogs and by the time I made it from my car to my wife’s car in the parking lot (to grab some bags) to the hospital, I looked like I had decided to take a noon-time swim in my dress shirt and slacks (we had dressed up for standardized patient interviews that day).
Originally, we wanted to stay at home as long as we could before going into the hospital, but since she had tested positive for Group B Strep (a type of bacteria that different people normally colonize at different rates – about 1 in 4 women or so are positive, but it can be very harmful to a baby that is exposed to it during the birthing process), she needed to come in a bit earlier to get antibiotics, which is really the only reason she called and came in when she did. Also, she really wasn’t having super strong contractions yet – they were still pretty basic Braxton-Hicks that she had been having all along. But again, since she was GBS positive, she really needed to start having contractions soon after her water broke. Since she wasn’t, they started her on a low dose of Pitocin (a synthetic form of oxytocin, the hormone that – among other things – causes uterine contractions during labor). She labored like a champ for eight or nine hours on the Pitocin drip (which is somewhat infamous for sometimes causing contractions that can be much more intense than those that you might have normally), and finally had an epidural late that night, which allowed all of us to relax a little bit and actually dose off for a few minutes at a time here and there. Finally, at almost 6 am the next morning, our son was born, weighing a healthy 7 lb 14 oz.
As I sit here now and watch him sleep (which is really something I should be doing as well, since sleep has been a rare commodity over the past day and a half and things don’t look to get any better any time soon), it’s almost surreal to realize that he is our child. It’s really incredible to realize that this temporarily peaceful little human belongs to you and is your responsibility. It’s something that is hard to grasp from just interacting with other people’s babies or young children – this little guy is yours, and it’s your job to keep him alive and teach him about life and all that that entails. It’s also incredible how darn cute and little he is, but I digress. Things will be busy, I’m sure, particularly with medical school in the mix, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
