Birth Story
So, I asked you all what you would like me to write about here in my lj, and the biggest request so far was for our birth story. It's really long, but please keep in mind the fact that the labor lasted for 38 hours. I don't know if lj has a limit on how long a post can be, but I think I may have exceeded it. We'll see. If it doesn't fit, I'll add a second entry.
Of course, I've meant to write and post the birth story ever since it happened, but I haven't had a whole lot of time to write it all out. I imagine I'll have to type this up in pieces, as Dot doesn't care much about Mama's ability to get things done . . . unless it concerns her, that is. ;-)
I suppose this has the added benefit of softening the story. If I wrote it shortly after the birth, it would probably be a lot uglier than it seems now that my body has mostly healed and there are seven weeks between me and the contractions. Let's see what happens.
Before the Birth
I was due on Wednesday, January 23rd, and the doctors had been threatening to induce me for a few days at that point. I had talked my doctor into waiting a while longer, as I didn't think an induction was necessary at all. I mean, they went from talking about how the baby would be too big because of the gestational diabetes (thus requiring an induction) to freaking out about how she was too small and that could mean that the placenta wasn't supporting her (thus requiring an induction). Anyway, my doctor had gone ahead and scheduled one for the following week, and Rob and I hadn't yet decided if we were going to show up for the appointment or not. We ended up not having to find out.
I had a doctor's appointment on either the 23rd or 24th, and there were no signs of impending labor. Still, I suspected that the baby was coming on Thursday. I'm not even entirely sure what it was that made me think that now. Oh, I remember. I pooped a lot that day. Like five times. That made me suspicious that my body was preparing itself for the baby to come. I didn't mention this to Rob or my mom, since I didn't know if it really meant anything or not.
Rob and I had decided that it was time for us to start having lots of sex, as everyone kept recommending that as a way to get labor started. There's actually science behind that, as semen contains prostaglandins, which ripen the cervix. So, I meandered upstairs with him that night for our first "treatment." ;-) Believe it or not, it was the first time we'd doe it since October. With my back and hip problems, sex was just really not something that held my interest. We did it around 10:00, and Rob went to sleep for the night. I headed back downstairs to hang out with Mom. I decided to go to bed at around midnight. Within minutes I felt what I thought were probably contractions.
Laboring at Home - aka Day 1
Unsure, I headed downstairs and asked Mom about it, since she's had two babies. She thought it was probably labor. I decided it might be maddening if I started keeping track of them so early, so I didn't watch the clock for a while. I did go upstairs to let Rob know that I thought we were having a baby. His response was to roll over and go back to sleep. I, on the other hand, was far too excited and freaked out to sleep. I hung out with Mom instead. At some point during the night there was a bunch of blood in the toilet. Actually, I think it was more like some tissue. I realize now that this is what they call "bloody show." The weird thing is that I never did see a mucous plug. (I hate, hate, hate that term.)
After a few hours I really started to believe that I was in labor. Seriously, it took a few hours for me to really believe it.
I had a few projects I was working on for our company, so I followed up with a couple of clients by sending out some emails. I also sent a few things to my business partner so she could take over. One of my clients is on the East Coast, and he and I ended up emailing back and forth since he was already awake and it was only 4:00 in the morning here. At this point, I found myself sort of humming or moaning through the contractions. I'd also been keeping track of them at this point, and they were generally about six minutes apart. This varied, though, and our goal was to get to a point where the contractions were four minutes apart, lasted a minute each, and had been doing so for an hour.
I also decided to take a bath and spend some time laboring in the tub. It's supposed to be one way to lessen the pain of contractions. I didn't find it all that helpful, but I chalked that up to not having a very deep tub. It was somewhat distracting, though, so I stayed in for quite a while with my mom checking on me occasionally. I got fairly upset when the water wouldn't get hot enough, so Mom went and put some on to boil in order to add it to the tub. It struck me as hilarious that someone was actually boiling water while I was in labor.
We had taken 12 weeks of classes to prepare for a birth using the Bradley Method. This relies on using relaxation techniques rather than medication to deal with the pain. The coach (Rob) is really involved in the process by helping the mother with the relaxation exercises. I was still doing o.k. on my own, but I knew I could wake Rob if I needed his help.
Rob's alarm went off around six a.m., and I went up and asked him if he was ready to have a baby. I mean, I'd already been in labor for six hours or more, so it seemed reasonable to think the baby would be born before nightfall, right? Yeah, right. We decided that he would take the day off work, but since my contractions were still pretty irregular, he decided to go ahead and go to his workout at the YMCA. I was definitely moaning and groaning a lot more by this point, but I could still handle it pretty well.
By the time he got home, I'd been up for nearly 24 hours, and it seemed like I should probably try to get some rest. Unfortunately, the only time I could sleep was between contractions. First of all, this isn't a very long time to sleep (although they would occasionally space out as far as 20 minutes and allow for a little nap). Secondly, I'd rather be woken by a drill sergeant screaming in my face than by a contraction. So. Not. Cool.
I can't really tell you a whole lot more about the day. I did take another bath at some point. I mostly stayed upstairs in the bedroom where Rob had just put in a gas fireplace. Oh, I read quite a bit of Anthony Bourdaine's Kitchen Confidential. We had a birthing ball that I used quite a bit. I could sit on it and roll my hips in a figure eight pattern while moaning and humming through the contractions. The moaning had definitely gotten louder by this time, as you might suspect. At some point during the day, our instructor from the Bradley Method classes called. It was kind of cool to get to talk to her during the labor, as she's actually a dula. I talked until a contraction hit and then passed the phone to Rob. She could hear me moaning in the background, and I heard her tell Rob, "Tell her to do it lower." The lower tones help with the whole process.
Unfortunately, the reason she called was to tell us that one of the couples in our class had lost their baby and were having a memorial service the next day. There weren't a lot of details, but basically the baby died in utero, and Karen had to be induced and deliver it stillborn. How heartbreaking. I've since heard from her and some other friends that she is so mad at herself for telling me that during labor. I definitely thought about them throughout the rest of the experience, and I was just so sad for them. As you can imagine, I was pretty distracted, though, so it only came and went from my mind from time to time.
Throughout the day, Rob did his best to keep family and friends updated about what was going on. We called my in-laws that morning to let them know the baby was on the way. They had planned to come over the weekend after the baby was born, and since it was already a Friday, they just hopped in the car to drive over from Helena, Montana. We figured they'd get here when the baby was a couple of hours old. Nope.
The Hospital - aka Day 2
Around 7:00 on Friday night, I decided it was time to go to the hospital. The pain was bad enough to make me cry, and the contractions seemed to be about four minutes apart, which had been our goal. Mom and Rob had just eaten some pizza, but I wasn't up to it. That probably wasn't the best idea, as I could have used the food. I was just too . . . um . . . busy to eat.
The three of us got in the car, and we ended up arriving at the hospital at nearly the same time as the in-laws who had driven there from Helena thinking they would be meeting their graddaughter. Instead, they had to go to the waiting room while I was triaged. The hospital needed to make sure that I was really in labor before they admitted me. I assured them that I was, but they felt it was important to check. I was absolutely devastated to discover that after 19 hours of labor, I was only 4 centimeters dilated. At that point I began to wonder how I was going to actually follow through with this whole natural birth thing. Fortunately, Rob knew I really wanted to do it, and he kept helping me through.
So, now I have my pants off, and the nurse can't find a hospital gown for me to wear. Instead of going in search of one, she decides to wheel me all the way to my room on the bed. Honestly, I didn't mind too much since walking really wasn't any fun at this point.
One of the first things I recall was that they needed to get me hooked up to an IV really quickly. I had tested positive for Group B strep, which meant that I needed to get two IVs, six hours apart. I'm desperately afraid of shots and IVs, so I bawled my head off. They managed to collapse the vein the first time and had to bring someone else in with me crying the whole time. Pretty silly, eh? Here's a woman giving birth, and she's crying about a little pinprick. That's why they define a phobia as being an "irrational" fear!
My in-laws came in and visited for a while before they headed to their hotel. We promised to call when we got close to delivering. I had decided long ago that I wouldn't invite my MIL to stay in the room during my labor for two reasons. First, I am fairly modest about being naked. Secondly, she really wanted my SIL to suffer a lot more than she did when my niece was born. I didn't want that kind of energy in the room. My MIL really surprised me, though, by saying things like, "It's o.k. to get pain medication" and stuff like that. My mom walked them to the waiting room, and apparently Kim told my mom that she thought I was so brave. Wow.
The nurses were all nice and were willing to abide by our birth plan to a large degree. One thing that I had requested was a minimum of vaginal exams, and that seemed to really kind of drive everyone crazy. They just wanted to know how far I was all the time. This got to be a little more of a situation later on, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Another part of my birth plan was that I didn't want to be tethered to the bed. That meant that the IV had to come out as soon as it was done and that I didn't want constant fetal monitoring. So, they took care of these things up front and then unhooked me from everything so I could go get in their nice, deep tub.
Let's guess that I had been in labor for approximately 23 hours at this point. Mom hung out with me in the bathroom, and I think this is when Rob took his nap. The moaning was pretty loud by now, and I started talking about wanting some drugs. Mom and Rob helped me avoid that for a while longer. Finally, though, I felt like I really just needed some sort of relief. At this point I'd been awake for all of Thursday and all of Friday (with those little between-contraction naps that don't really count), and I'd been in labor for more than a day.
So, here's one of those things they don't tell you about having a baby:
Unless you have a full-on epidural, there's not a lot they can do to manage your pain with drugs. The drugs they give you (Femerol, in my case) only takes the edge off the pain, and it only lasts for about an hour. Also, each dose is less effective than the previous dose. I was pretty desperate, though, and decided to try it. This meant I had to have another vaginal exam (grrr) because they can't administer the drug after a certain point. Over about three hours, I had two doses and then decided it wasn't worthwhile. It also kept me tethered to that darned IV again.
I don't know exactly where everything I remember falls in, so I'll just share a few of the actual laboring stories. One of the big things I remember is sitting on the birthing ball and rocking really hard. I actually almost flew off backwards, so I had to roll it up to the counter so I could hold on. Meanwhile, the amniotic fluid kept leaking out, so I had to keep changing out cloths. I also had to keep peeing, so there was a lot of back and forth to the bathroom where there was this little contraption on the toilet to capture all of my pee. I guess they have to keep track of the amount you pass, but I found it very disconcerting as not only did it force me to keep seeing how much blood was coming out, but the nurse also had to keep emptying it, and that was sort of embarrassing for some reason.
Oh, I forgot to mention that our nurse was a man named Matthew. His wife had natural birth with their five children, so he got what we were trying to do. He was also so apologetic every time he had to do something painful to me like the vaginal exams both times I had the medication.
I ended up spending a lot of time laboring in the bathroom. I kept feeling like I had to pee, so I'd grab the IV pole and run to the bathroom. As if the whole situation wasn't surreal enough, it was the middle of the night, and we had most of the lights off. You know how it's kind of weird to wander around your house in the middle of the night with the lights off when you get up to go to the bathroom or get a snack? This was like that times 1000 with excruciating pain thrown on top.
Things Get Ugly
Sometime in the early morning hours, I got the urge to push. I was so excited, as I'd been told that when this happened, it meant your body knew it was time. I figured that even with two hours of pushing, the hell was going to come to an end. Before I could push, though, they needed to do another vaginal exam. What they found was that I was still only about eight centimeters dilated. This meant that they would not allow me to push.
Let me make a point here. The "urge to push" is a biological imperative that ensures the survival of the species. Being told not to push is sort of like being told not to breathe. Maybe that's not the perfect example, as breathing was the one thing I as supposed to do. Every time I had a contraction, I was supposed to blow all of my breaths out as if I were blowing out a candle. Imagine hyperventilating, but instead of breathing into a paper bag, you blow each breath out like you're blowing out a candle. And you're doing it as fast as if you were panting. Now, imagine doing that every two or three minutes for about five hours. Oh, and don't forget the all-encompassing pain. And the fact that you've been awake for an unhealthy amount of time. And if that's not enough, you're about to become a parent.
This is the point in time when I really just sort of started to lose it. I was doing everything I could to deal, including rocking my entire body with every contraction while doing that ridiculous blowing thing. This is when I really started feeling like I needed to be in the bathroom the whole time, especially since I would nearly tear the IV out or knock over the stand with my constant sprints there. I ended up sitting on the birthing ball in the room until a contraction would get bad, and then I'd sit on the toilet. I was thrashing around so badly at this point that I hit my head (hard) on the pipe behind the toilet and barely even felt it. Rob would shove his face right in mine and force me to make eye contact. He and my mom were still sort of taking turns with me. I also couldn't always resist the urge to push, and sometimes it would just happen. They could hear me all the way at the nurses station screaming, "I'm sorry I'm pushing!"
I think my doctor came somewhere between four and six a.m. on Saturday morning. She let me keep going for some time but finally brought up the idea of an epidural around eight a.m. Remember all the sobbing I did when getting the original IV? Well, most of that fear had dissipated at this point, and I was on board for the epidural. I had literally begun to think that I might lose consciousness from the pain and exhaustion. I kept asking my mom what would happen if I just couldn't do it. She pretty much laughed at the idea, but I was quite serious.
The doctor checked me again, and I think I was still at eight centimeters. She also discovered that my bag of waters hadn't broken yet (we're at about 32 hours now), so she ruptured that (just when I thought things couldn't get any more painful, I learned I was wrong). This meant that all of the amniotic fluid I'd sprinkled about during the night was actually pee. I'd been leaving a trail of pee and blood all night. We thought breaking the bag might speed things up, but half an hour later I hadn't progressed, and we went ahead with the epidural. For those keeping track, I'd had at least six vaginal exams at this point.
Doctor Sam arrived shortly thereafter with his magic epidural medicine. I was worried about how I would hold perfectly still considering my body was literally wracked by the contractions. My fear of the needles, however, was completely replaced by my fear that I would not survive the next four or five contractions that I needed to get through while the epidural took effect. It did take effect, though, and my whole world got better. If Doctor Sam had asked for my hand in marriage, I would have left Rob on the spot. He ended up giving me tons of medicine, as he felt like we were already so far behind on the pain relief that there was nothing to be done other than load me the heck up.
It has to be said that while I was feeling a zillion times better at this point, I had been awake for two days and had been involved in the hardest physical activity of my life. Feeling better did not equate feeling good, which is why there are some very fakey pictures of me giving the camera the thumbs-up after the epidural. I remember my mom asking if I could feel much, and I answered that I couldn't feel anything. She informed me that I was right in the middle of a contraction. Awesome.
At this point, I got to take a little nap. My nurse Matt had long since been off duty, replaced by nurse Katie. She was awesome, too, and she let me get some sleep to rest up for the pushing. I woke after a while, and we watched the end of the Gonzaga basketball game on my room's tv. We also called the in-laws who were once again standing by in the waiting room. Nurse Katie did a great job by allowing the baby to get all the way to a +2 station. They catheterized me for the second time, and then we started the show. Finally, on Saturday afternoon I started pushing, and I have to say that I was a freaking rock star. My mom looked like she was going to pass out. She couldn't decide if it was worse to watch the baby come out or watch my face. Apparently it looked extremely painful even though I couldn't feel it.
One other awesome thing about nurse Katie is that she totally followed through on my wishes not to have everyone yelling at me while I was pushing. I wanted it to be nice and quiet instead of having everyone counting and hollering. (Like I said in my birthing class, I dont' want to have a baby and do math at the same time!) Really, though, it was about the noise level. I wanted my baby to come into a nice peaceful environment, and I got that. No "Push! Push!" or "Breathe! Breathe!" They just let me push when I was ready, and I did a great job.
Dot Finally Arrives!
I probably only had to push through about six contractions, and Dot was born at 2:14 p.m. I felt her little head pop out, and I had to look down. I'd been avoiding looking at any of the process so far, but curiosity got the better of me at that point. There had been meconium in the amniotic fluid, so the doctor suctioned her before she was even the rest of the way out. Dot latched onto the doctor's finger and started sucking! I felt the second pop, and she was out. I got to reach down and pick her up and brought her up yo me and held her. At just a few seconds old, she was already looking all around with her eyes and was turning her head when she heard voices.
Rob and I had been adamant about wanting the umbilical cord to stop pulsing before it was cut because we wanted our baby to have her full blood volume. The doctor had warned that they would just cut it if she wasn't crying because they would have to whisk her over to the warmer earlier. Fortunately, she cooperated and cried when she came out. We got to visit a little bit, and then they took her over to the warmer to check her out. She scored 9 on both of her APGARs.
It turns out that the in-laws had been waiting outside the door while I was pushing, so they came in and everyone gathered around the warmer while I was getting stitched up. I had torn very badly, apparently, which is a great argument for not being completely numb during the pushing. Take it from me, you never want your doctor looking between your legs and describing anything to her nurse as "a gusher." She also explained to me that there was so much damage and swelling from the labor that the stitches would end up coming loose once some of the swelling subsided. Lovely.
They brought the baby back to me, and a nurse helped us nurse. The daddy and the grandparents got to hold the (as yet unnamed) baby before we were all relocated to a recovery room. This hospital has a tradition where the dad (or other loved one) pushes a button on the way to recovery. This causes a chime to ring all over the hospital to announce that there's been a birth.
Of course, I've meant to write and post the birth story ever since it happened, but I haven't had a whole lot of time to write it all out. I imagine I'll have to type this up in pieces, as Dot doesn't care much about Mama's ability to get things done . . . unless it concerns her, that is. ;-)
I suppose this has the added benefit of softening the story. If I wrote it shortly after the birth, it would probably be a lot uglier than it seems now that my body has mostly healed and there are seven weeks between me and the contractions. Let's see what happens.
Before the Birth
I was due on Wednesday, January 23rd, and the doctors had been threatening to induce me for a few days at that point. I had talked my doctor into waiting a while longer, as I didn't think an induction was necessary at all. I mean, they went from talking about how the baby would be too big because of the gestational diabetes (thus requiring an induction) to freaking out about how she was too small and that could mean that the placenta wasn't supporting her (thus requiring an induction). Anyway, my doctor had gone ahead and scheduled one for the following week, and Rob and I hadn't yet decided if we were going to show up for the appointment or not. We ended up not having to find out.
I had a doctor's appointment on either the 23rd or 24th, and there were no signs of impending labor. Still, I suspected that the baby was coming on Thursday. I'm not even entirely sure what it was that made me think that now. Oh, I remember. I pooped a lot that day. Like five times. That made me suspicious that my body was preparing itself for the baby to come. I didn't mention this to Rob or my mom, since I didn't know if it really meant anything or not.
Rob and I had decided that it was time for us to start having lots of sex, as everyone kept recommending that as a way to get labor started. There's actually science behind that, as semen contains prostaglandins, which ripen the cervix. So, I meandered upstairs with him that night for our first "treatment." ;-) Believe it or not, it was the first time we'd doe it since October. With my back and hip problems, sex was just really not something that held my interest. We did it around 10:00, and Rob went to sleep for the night. I headed back downstairs to hang out with Mom. I decided to go to bed at around midnight. Within minutes I felt what I thought were probably contractions.
Laboring at Home - aka Day 1
Unsure, I headed downstairs and asked Mom about it, since she's had two babies. She thought it was probably labor. I decided it might be maddening if I started keeping track of them so early, so I didn't watch the clock for a while. I did go upstairs to let Rob know that I thought we were having a baby. His response was to roll over and go back to sleep. I, on the other hand, was far too excited and freaked out to sleep. I hung out with Mom instead. At some point during the night there was a bunch of blood in the toilet. Actually, I think it was more like some tissue. I realize now that this is what they call "bloody show." The weird thing is that I never did see a mucous plug. (I hate, hate, hate that term.)
After a few hours I really started to believe that I was in labor. Seriously, it took a few hours for me to really believe it.
I had a few projects I was working on for our company, so I followed up with a couple of clients by sending out some emails. I also sent a few things to my business partner so she could take over. One of my clients is on the East Coast, and he and I ended up emailing back and forth since he was already awake and it was only 4:00 in the morning here. At this point, I found myself sort of humming or moaning through the contractions. I'd also been keeping track of them at this point, and they were generally about six minutes apart. This varied, though, and our goal was to get to a point where the contractions were four minutes apart, lasted a minute each, and had been doing so for an hour.
I also decided to take a bath and spend some time laboring in the tub. It's supposed to be one way to lessen the pain of contractions. I didn't find it all that helpful, but I chalked that up to not having a very deep tub. It was somewhat distracting, though, so I stayed in for quite a while with my mom checking on me occasionally. I got fairly upset when the water wouldn't get hot enough, so Mom went and put some on to boil in order to add it to the tub. It struck me as hilarious that someone was actually boiling water while I was in labor.
We had taken 12 weeks of classes to prepare for a birth using the Bradley Method. This relies on using relaxation techniques rather than medication to deal with the pain. The coach (Rob) is really involved in the process by helping the mother with the relaxation exercises. I was still doing o.k. on my own, but I knew I could wake Rob if I needed his help.
Rob's alarm went off around six a.m., and I went up and asked him if he was ready to have a baby. I mean, I'd already been in labor for six hours or more, so it seemed reasonable to think the baby would be born before nightfall, right? Yeah, right. We decided that he would take the day off work, but since my contractions were still pretty irregular, he decided to go ahead and go to his workout at the YMCA. I was definitely moaning and groaning a lot more by this point, but I could still handle it pretty well.
By the time he got home, I'd been up for nearly 24 hours, and it seemed like I should probably try to get some rest. Unfortunately, the only time I could sleep was between contractions. First of all, this isn't a very long time to sleep (although they would occasionally space out as far as 20 minutes and allow for a little nap). Secondly, I'd rather be woken by a drill sergeant screaming in my face than by a contraction. So. Not. Cool.
I can't really tell you a whole lot more about the day. I did take another bath at some point. I mostly stayed upstairs in the bedroom where Rob had just put in a gas fireplace. Oh, I read quite a bit of Anthony Bourdaine's Kitchen Confidential. We had a birthing ball that I used quite a bit. I could sit on it and roll my hips in a figure eight pattern while moaning and humming through the contractions. The moaning had definitely gotten louder by this time, as you might suspect. At some point during the day, our instructor from the Bradley Method classes called. It was kind of cool to get to talk to her during the labor, as she's actually a dula. I talked until a contraction hit and then passed the phone to Rob. She could hear me moaning in the background, and I heard her tell Rob, "Tell her to do it lower." The lower tones help with the whole process.
Unfortunately, the reason she called was to tell us that one of the couples in our class had lost their baby and were having a memorial service the next day. There weren't a lot of details, but basically the baby died in utero, and Karen had to be induced and deliver it stillborn. How heartbreaking. I've since heard from her and some other friends that she is so mad at herself for telling me that during labor. I definitely thought about them throughout the rest of the experience, and I was just so sad for them. As you can imagine, I was pretty distracted, though, so it only came and went from my mind from time to time.
Throughout the day, Rob did his best to keep family and friends updated about what was going on. We called my in-laws that morning to let them know the baby was on the way. They had planned to come over the weekend after the baby was born, and since it was already a Friday, they just hopped in the car to drive over from Helena, Montana. We figured they'd get here when the baby was a couple of hours old. Nope.
The Hospital - aka Day 2
Around 7:00 on Friday night, I decided it was time to go to the hospital. The pain was bad enough to make me cry, and the contractions seemed to be about four minutes apart, which had been our goal. Mom and Rob had just eaten some pizza, but I wasn't up to it. That probably wasn't the best idea, as I could have used the food. I was just too . . . um . . . busy to eat.
The three of us got in the car, and we ended up arriving at the hospital at nearly the same time as the in-laws who had driven there from Helena thinking they would be meeting their graddaughter. Instead, they had to go to the waiting room while I was triaged. The hospital needed to make sure that I was really in labor before they admitted me. I assured them that I was, but they felt it was important to check. I was absolutely devastated to discover that after 19 hours of labor, I was only 4 centimeters dilated. At that point I began to wonder how I was going to actually follow through with this whole natural birth thing. Fortunately, Rob knew I really wanted to do it, and he kept helping me through.
So, now I have my pants off, and the nurse can't find a hospital gown for me to wear. Instead of going in search of one, she decides to wheel me all the way to my room on the bed. Honestly, I didn't mind too much since walking really wasn't any fun at this point.
One of the first things I recall was that they needed to get me hooked up to an IV really quickly. I had tested positive for Group B strep, which meant that I needed to get two IVs, six hours apart. I'm desperately afraid of shots and IVs, so I bawled my head off. They managed to collapse the vein the first time and had to bring someone else in with me crying the whole time. Pretty silly, eh? Here's a woman giving birth, and she's crying about a little pinprick. That's why they define a phobia as being an "irrational" fear!
My in-laws came in and visited for a while before they headed to their hotel. We promised to call when we got close to delivering. I had decided long ago that I wouldn't invite my MIL to stay in the room during my labor for two reasons. First, I am fairly modest about being naked. Secondly, she really wanted my SIL to suffer a lot more than she did when my niece was born. I didn't want that kind of energy in the room. My MIL really surprised me, though, by saying things like, "It's o.k. to get pain medication" and stuff like that. My mom walked them to the waiting room, and apparently Kim told my mom that she thought I was so brave. Wow.
The nurses were all nice and were willing to abide by our birth plan to a large degree. One thing that I had requested was a minimum of vaginal exams, and that seemed to really kind of drive everyone crazy. They just wanted to know how far I was all the time. This got to be a little more of a situation later on, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Another part of my birth plan was that I didn't want to be tethered to the bed. That meant that the IV had to come out as soon as it was done and that I didn't want constant fetal monitoring. So, they took care of these things up front and then unhooked me from everything so I could go get in their nice, deep tub.
Let's guess that I had been in labor for approximately 23 hours at this point. Mom hung out with me in the bathroom, and I think this is when Rob took his nap. The moaning was pretty loud by now, and I started talking about wanting some drugs. Mom and Rob helped me avoid that for a while longer. Finally, though, I felt like I really just needed some sort of relief. At this point I'd been awake for all of Thursday and all of Friday (with those little between-contraction naps that don't really count), and I'd been in labor for more than a day.
So, here's one of those things they don't tell you about having a baby:
Unless you have a full-on epidural, there's not a lot they can do to manage your pain with drugs. The drugs they give you (Femerol, in my case) only takes the edge off the pain, and it only lasts for about an hour. Also, each dose is less effective than the previous dose. I was pretty desperate, though, and decided to try it. This meant I had to have another vaginal exam (grrr) because they can't administer the drug after a certain point. Over about three hours, I had two doses and then decided it wasn't worthwhile. It also kept me tethered to that darned IV again.
I don't know exactly where everything I remember falls in, so I'll just share a few of the actual laboring stories. One of the big things I remember is sitting on the birthing ball and rocking really hard. I actually almost flew off backwards, so I had to roll it up to the counter so I could hold on. Meanwhile, the amniotic fluid kept leaking out, so I had to keep changing out cloths. I also had to keep peeing, so there was a lot of back and forth to the bathroom where there was this little contraption on the toilet to capture all of my pee. I guess they have to keep track of the amount you pass, but I found it very disconcerting as not only did it force me to keep seeing how much blood was coming out, but the nurse also had to keep emptying it, and that was sort of embarrassing for some reason.
Oh, I forgot to mention that our nurse was a man named Matthew. His wife had natural birth with their five children, so he got what we were trying to do. He was also so apologetic every time he had to do something painful to me like the vaginal exams both times I had the medication.
I ended up spending a lot of time laboring in the bathroom. I kept feeling like I had to pee, so I'd grab the IV pole and run to the bathroom. As if the whole situation wasn't surreal enough, it was the middle of the night, and we had most of the lights off. You know how it's kind of weird to wander around your house in the middle of the night with the lights off when you get up to go to the bathroom or get a snack? This was like that times 1000 with excruciating pain thrown on top.
Things Get Ugly
Sometime in the early morning hours, I got the urge to push. I was so excited, as I'd been told that when this happened, it meant your body knew it was time. I figured that even with two hours of pushing, the hell was going to come to an end. Before I could push, though, they needed to do another vaginal exam. What they found was that I was still only about eight centimeters dilated. This meant that they would not allow me to push.
Let me make a point here. The "urge to push" is a biological imperative that ensures the survival of the species. Being told not to push is sort of like being told not to breathe. Maybe that's not the perfect example, as breathing was the one thing I as supposed to do. Every time I had a contraction, I was supposed to blow all of my breaths out as if I were blowing out a candle. Imagine hyperventilating, but instead of breathing into a paper bag, you blow each breath out like you're blowing out a candle. And you're doing it as fast as if you were panting. Now, imagine doing that every two or three minutes for about five hours. Oh, and don't forget the all-encompassing pain. And the fact that you've been awake for an unhealthy amount of time. And if that's not enough, you're about to become a parent.
This is the point in time when I really just sort of started to lose it. I was doing everything I could to deal, including rocking my entire body with every contraction while doing that ridiculous blowing thing. This is when I really started feeling like I needed to be in the bathroom the whole time, especially since I would nearly tear the IV out or knock over the stand with my constant sprints there. I ended up sitting on the birthing ball in the room until a contraction would get bad, and then I'd sit on the toilet. I was thrashing around so badly at this point that I hit my head (hard) on the pipe behind the toilet and barely even felt it. Rob would shove his face right in mine and force me to make eye contact. He and my mom were still sort of taking turns with me. I also couldn't always resist the urge to push, and sometimes it would just happen. They could hear me all the way at the nurses station screaming, "I'm sorry I'm pushing!"
I think my doctor came somewhere between four and six a.m. on Saturday morning. She let me keep going for some time but finally brought up the idea of an epidural around eight a.m. Remember all the sobbing I did when getting the original IV? Well, most of that fear had dissipated at this point, and I was on board for the epidural. I had literally begun to think that I might lose consciousness from the pain and exhaustion. I kept asking my mom what would happen if I just couldn't do it. She pretty much laughed at the idea, but I was quite serious.
The doctor checked me again, and I think I was still at eight centimeters. She also discovered that my bag of waters hadn't broken yet (we're at about 32 hours now), so she ruptured that (just when I thought things couldn't get any more painful, I learned I was wrong). This meant that all of the amniotic fluid I'd sprinkled about during the night was actually pee. I'd been leaving a trail of pee and blood all night. We thought breaking the bag might speed things up, but half an hour later I hadn't progressed, and we went ahead with the epidural. For those keeping track, I'd had at least six vaginal exams at this point.
Doctor Sam arrived shortly thereafter with his magic epidural medicine. I was worried about how I would hold perfectly still considering my body was literally wracked by the contractions. My fear of the needles, however, was completely replaced by my fear that I would not survive the next four or five contractions that I needed to get through while the epidural took effect. It did take effect, though, and my whole world got better. If Doctor Sam had asked for my hand in marriage, I would have left Rob on the spot. He ended up giving me tons of medicine, as he felt like we were already so far behind on the pain relief that there was nothing to be done other than load me the heck up.
It has to be said that while I was feeling a zillion times better at this point, I had been awake for two days and had been involved in the hardest physical activity of my life. Feeling better did not equate feeling good, which is why there are some very fakey pictures of me giving the camera the thumbs-up after the epidural. I remember my mom asking if I could feel much, and I answered that I couldn't feel anything. She informed me that I was right in the middle of a contraction. Awesome.
At this point, I got to take a little nap. My nurse Matt had long since been off duty, replaced by nurse Katie. She was awesome, too, and she let me get some sleep to rest up for the pushing. I woke after a while, and we watched the end of the Gonzaga basketball game on my room's tv. We also called the in-laws who were once again standing by in the waiting room. Nurse Katie did a great job by allowing the baby to get all the way to a +2 station. They catheterized me for the second time, and then we started the show. Finally, on Saturday afternoon I started pushing, and I have to say that I was a freaking rock star. My mom looked like she was going to pass out. She couldn't decide if it was worse to watch the baby come out or watch my face. Apparently it looked extremely painful even though I couldn't feel it.
One other awesome thing about nurse Katie is that she totally followed through on my wishes not to have everyone yelling at me while I was pushing. I wanted it to be nice and quiet instead of having everyone counting and hollering. (Like I said in my birthing class, I dont' want to have a baby and do math at the same time!) Really, though, it was about the noise level. I wanted my baby to come into a nice peaceful environment, and I got that. No "Push! Push!" or "Breathe! Breathe!" They just let me push when I was ready, and I did a great job.
Dot Finally Arrives!
I probably only had to push through about six contractions, and Dot was born at 2:14 p.m. I felt her little head pop out, and I had to look down. I'd been avoiding looking at any of the process so far, but curiosity got the better of me at that point. There had been meconium in the amniotic fluid, so the doctor suctioned her before she was even the rest of the way out. Dot latched onto the doctor's finger and started sucking! I felt the second pop, and she was out. I got to reach down and pick her up and brought her up yo me and held her. At just a few seconds old, she was already looking all around with her eyes and was turning her head when she heard voices.
Rob and I had been adamant about wanting the umbilical cord to stop pulsing before it was cut because we wanted our baby to have her full blood volume. The doctor had warned that they would just cut it if she wasn't crying because they would have to whisk her over to the warmer earlier. Fortunately, she cooperated and cried when she came out. We got to visit a little bit, and then they took her over to the warmer to check her out. She scored 9 on both of her APGARs.
It turns out that the in-laws had been waiting outside the door while I was pushing, so they came in and everyone gathered around the warmer while I was getting stitched up. I had torn very badly, apparently, which is a great argument for not being completely numb during the pushing. Take it from me, you never want your doctor looking between your legs and describing anything to her nurse as "a gusher." She also explained to me that there was so much damage and swelling from the labor that the stitches would end up coming loose once some of the swelling subsided. Lovely.
They brought the baby back to me, and a nurse helped us nurse. The daddy and the grandparents got to hold the (as yet unnamed) baby before we were all relocated to a recovery room. This hospital has a tradition where the dad (or other loved one) pushes a button on the way to recovery. This causes a chime to ring all over the hospital to announce that there's been a birth.