Let me preface this story with the fact that the idea of labor terrified me. Before discovering I was expecting, I was never sure that I wanted to have children because the idea of tearing down there was the single worst thing I could imagine. The first time I walked into the OB's office, I was still shaking his hand when I told him I wanted an epidural at the first sign of labor. That was the deal. No way was I going to have a child au naturel. I then spent the next several months reading every piece of literature I could imagine on the subject of labor, so I would be more than prepared to recognize labor at the first sign. I was determined I would be in the hospital hooked up to machines at the first sign of contractions. I even skipped birthing classes because I knew I would never need to learn how to breathe through contractions.
Motherhood Lesson #1- Murphy's Law- Anything that can go wrong, will. Especially when it comes to a birthing plan.
Sunday, February 28, 6:30 a.m.(25 days before due date)
I awaken to a sudden gushing of fluid. I go to the bathroom and, sure enough, my panties and pajamas are soaked. I remember the whole "change into dry panties and lie down for half an hour" thing from one of the books, so I change and go back to bed, watching the clock for thirty minutes.
Sunday, 7:00 a.m.
I stand up and wait for the tell-tale gush of fluid and...nothing. I chalk it up to a false alarm and continue about my morning.
Sunday, 11:00 a.m.
I'm sitting on the couch when I notice I am sitting in a wet spot. I go to the bathroom and discover bloody mucous (mucous plug?) on the TP. I decide to call Labor and Delivery at the hospital, and they tell me to come on down to get checked out.
Sunday, 12:00 p.m.
We arrive at L&D (a 45 minute drive from our house), by which time my pants are soaking wet. I get taken back to triage where they hook me up to monitors and take a swab of my fluid. I'm having irregular, mild contractions, but the fluid comes back as not my "water", and I am not dilated at all. Since I am only 36 weeks pregnant, they give me two Ambien to calm my uterus and send me home with instructions to drink lots of water.
Sunday, 3:00-6:00 p.m.
I'm knocked out by the Ambien, but I keep waking up every 15 minutes with pain in my uterus. I drink ~100 ounces of water during this stretch and continue lying down.
Sunday, 11:00 p.m.
The pain has gotten worse. I am so tired, but I can't stay asleep. I keep crying out that it hurts so much. DH calls his mother who tells him it couldn't hurt to go back to L&D to get checked out.
Monday, March 1, 1:00 a.m (24 days before due date)
We have made the second 45 minute drive down to the hospital. They hook me up to the machines again, and check for dilation. I have not dilated at all ("Maybe half a pinky tip or so," says the nurse). She says my contractions are not registering as "labor" stage and my uterus is not getting hard. They are not consistent. She suggests maybe I am dehydrated. She gives me two more Ambien. I ask why it hurts so much, and she tells me basically that I'm a wuss. They give us a sheet of paper describing the symptoms of labor and say to come back if the following things happen (paraphrased, of course):
1. Water breaks
2. I bleed a lot.
3. Contractions are consistent and uterus gets hard during them.
Monday, 6:00 a.m.
I have been up for 24 hours. I have had four Ambien. The pain is so bad that I can't get comfortable. I can't lie down. I have to walk, but then it hurts too much. I'm exhausted. I have been screaming every four minutes for a few hours. My uterus is not hard. There has been no gush of water. There is no blood. I only recall bits and pieces from this period, trauma must have blocked out the rest.
Monday, 11:00 a.m.
I have been screaming like a banshee for 6 hours now. I keep feeling like I have to gonumber two, so I keep sitting on the toilet. Scott has the idea that maybe I just have really bad hemorrhoids, so he has set up a sitz bath on the toilet for me. I will sit for a few seconds the stand and lean against the wall. I have a flash of an episode of I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant where the woman gives birth on a toilet. I have a premonition that I won't make it to the hospital before my baby is born. Scott calls a PA friend of ours to ask her what to do. She hears me screaming in the background, says that is not normal, and suggests we call the OB office. OB office says to bring me in at 2 in the afternoon.
Monday, 1:43 p.m.
We arrive at the OB office. I waddle in, Scott gets in line and I lean over a nearby couch and try not to scream as I feel the my body stiffen in preparation for another contraction. A nurse sees me and ushers me back to a room. She tells me to undress and climb on the table, and the doctor will be in shortly. I ask if they can just please give me something for the pain. It takes a while to get on the table. The OB walks in. I ask for a pain shot. Anything. Just make it stop. He puts on his gloves and slides his hands in to check for dilation. A look of panic crosses his face, and he pulls his hand out quickly.
He pulls out his phone and says, "Girl, you are at 9 centimeters. Get to the hospital now. I'm calling to tell them you are on your way. Do not stop for anything. We have never had a baby born in our office, and we are not going to start now."
I ask for a pain killer again- a request that is ignored. I get dressed. I'm in such a panic, I decide to leave my shoes as I believe they will take too long to put back on. Luckily, Scott grabs them, I lead the way barefoot and we rush to the hospital.
Monday, 2:18 p.m.
DH drops me off at the entrance to go park. I walk toward L&D. I get in sight of the check-in desk and let out a scream. Nurses rush over and get me to my room. My progress is checked. One nurse thinks if I just push then the baby will be born in moments. I refuse to push until I get an epidural. My mind is so gone that I have no comprehension of what is happening. All I know is that I need an epidural. I can't even remember why. I am told it may be too late. Two other nurses check me. 2 out of 3 agree. Baby is still far enough up that I can get my epidural. But I need to practice breathing through my contractions before I can get it. Apparently 13 hours of screaming and writhing is not good form in the art of labor.
Monday, 3:18 p.m.
I finally get my epidural. The world is suddenly in focus again. For the first time I am able to actually comprehend that the baby will be born soon. He is still early. No one knows if he will be a healthy weight. There is concern and question over when my water broke. I don't recall it ever happening, but it had broken. The risk of infection is introduced.
Monday, 4:30 p.m.
The doctor arrives for the birth. I am given Pitocin because my contractions are not behaving how they should (groups of three and then nothing). Doctor takes a look and determines that baby is head first but in an odd position. We never got our last ultrasound, so we had no idea. That's why my contractions were not happening in my uterus or registering as very strong. DH comes into the room; he is told to grab a leg and I am told to push. I keep getting told I am a good pusher, which is good because I feel absolutely nothing and can't really tell if I am pushing or not.
Monday, 4:52 p.m.
He is healthy, and after being cleaned up and given a hat, absolutely the most gorgeous baby ever born.
Because he is technically premature, we stay an extra day in the hospital, but he passes all of his tests with flying colors, and he is sent home with a clean bill of health (and an enormous hospital bill, but that is American healthcare at the present moment).
My friends who are now pregnant want to know the secret to knowing you are really in labor. I have no answer for that. All I can say is that labor is always different and cannot be planned, no matter how much you have read. It's kind of cliche, but you really should expect to be surprised. And don't worry about going to L&D too much. I really wish I had gone back sooner, but we let our pride get the best of us and didn't want to look stupid. I think delivering your baby on the side of the road may look a little more stupid.
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| Proud Daddy!! |
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