As you may remember, I left my 40-week doctor’s appointment with the staff letting me know they would get in contact with me about starting an induction the following week. I ended up getting a call the next morning letting us know that we would be on stand by to go in Sunday evening when I would get a nice dose of cervical gel and eventually an IV of Pitocin to get things started.
Now I never really got into how I pictured birth going on this site, but I was hoping to do things as naturally as possible. But by the time my due date had come and gone, I was willing to alter that plan as needed to get things moving along. And my oh my, natural was not exactly how things ended up.
Sunday passed in extreme slow motion. My phone never left my hand during the entire day. By the time 4pm rolled around, I was convinced that we wouldn’t be getting a call that evening.
10 minutes later the phone rang. It was one of the labor and delivery nurses asking me if I wanted to come in and have my baby that night.
Uh, yes please.
I hung up the phone and immediately started screaming to Ross that we needed to go. He rightfully assumed something was wrong at the sound of my shrill and shrieking voice. Of course nothing was wrong, but it was OMG TIME TO GO HAVE A BABY.
We scurried around getting our things together, making the necessary phone calls, and making sure we had everything.
Before getting in the car, Ross took one final belly shot:
Please note that I had been wearing that exact outfit for about 4 days as nothing else fit. Looking at the lower portion of my belly here, it seems that this outfit didn’t really fit either.
We got to the hospital at around 4:30 and were ushered into a luxurious Labor & Delivery room. As I got changed and hooked up to monitors, Ross was sent to navigate the maze that is Henrico Doctors’ Hospital to get me registered and fork over the first $300 of our bill.
Once Nurse Linda (who would leave at around 7pm only to come back at 7am to see me STILL IN LABOR and insist that she resume taking care of me) got me situated and Ross found his way back to my room, my doctor arrived to administer The Gel. Let’s just say The Gel involved a long skinny tube and a procedure that left me convinced that The Gel had been applied as far up as my tonsils. My doctor then told the nurse to start me on Pitocin at midnight if necessary as I was only 1/2cm dilated and to call him if it looked like I was getting close, no matter what time it was – he wanted to make sure he was the one to deliver me. Awww.
As my doctor left, Nurse Linda assured me that my doctor “really knows where to stick that gel” and I would probably go into labor on my own.
Let’s just say she was correct.
When I arrived at the hospital I was having very, very mild contractions about once an hour. About 2 minutes after my doctor left, I went from being nice and comfortable to having pretty intense contractions every 5 minutes. Despite the pain, it was getting to be pretty exciting and looking like things were moving along.
Things got to be a blur after that. The contractions got to be more painful, mostly in my back. The daytime nurses left and I was left in the care of Christine, another wonderful nurse, even though I kind of hated her every time she had to have me get back into bed to get some time on the monitors. For me, lying in bed was horrible – all I could do was concentrate on the pain, and the pressure on my back made me feel like I was going to split in two. Ok, not really, but it hurt. For me, the birthing ball, walking, and a hot shower (Holy Lord, a hot shower) made the pain manageable. When I was confined to the bed, Ross was perfect as he kept an eye on the monitor to let me know when a contraction was about to happen and when it was about to be over.
Friends came and visited at some point, but I have to be honest that I really don’t remember it. Here’s a picture proving it though…
We also had a couple friends show up in the evening and stay through the night. I saw them for about 3 minutes… 3 minutes that I also don’t remember. But here’s more proof that they were there…
Christine checked me at around 2am. I had only dilated to 2cm so she went ahead and started the Pitocin. By the time two drops made it into my arm I began what would turn into a 4 minute contraction that sent the baby’s heart rate down to a level that we were just not comfortable with. So we stopped the Pitocin and let me labor along on my own.
My water broke on its own at some point, which was incredibly gross, I must admit. There was also an incident in which I had to use a bed pan in front of my nurse (but not my husband because I sent him out of the room). Not exactly a high point dignity-wise, but you do what you have to do.
By the time 5am rolled around, I knew I was going to go insane if I didn’t have something to take the edge off. I let Christine know and she quickly gave my IV a shot of something that took me from writhing to stoned in about 30 seconds. Although I could still feel the contractions, I was able to drift in and out between them and let my body rest a bit.
Linda returned at around 7am with instructions to try Pitocin again but at the lowest level possible. The baby did ok with this, but the heart rate still didn’t react well to such strong contractions. We kept an eye on it and backed off the Pitocin off and on when needed. Through all of this I felt that the baby and I were getting such good care. I felt like Linda was completely focused on us, and she kept us up to date on everything. I really couldn’t have asked for more.
My doctor arrived at around 9am to check things out. I had made it to 4cm. By that point I was willing to do whatever he suggested to either get some sleep or get things over with. He suggested getting an epidural because things were going to go one of two ways: 1) I was going to be in labor for a good while longer and needed to get some rest so I would be able to push or 2) we were going to need to do a C-section because this kid was just too big to come out on its own. I agreed. My doctor said he would get the order in for the epidural and would be back around lunch time to check how things were going. If I hadn’t made any significant progress, we would need to go in and get the baby. I remember him holding my hand as he told me this, looking worried that I was going to be upset. I wasn’t, but the gesture was touching.
Before I knew it the anesthesiologist was in my room ready to go. He had me lie down on my side and curl up in the fetal position. I felt a little sting, a couple of pokes, and then glorious, blissful numbness. My whole body finally relaxed and I felt like I could breathe for the first time in many hours.
I spent the next couple hours drifting in and out of sleep with my waking moments focused on sending threatening messages to my cervix to get its act together. The bastard.
True to his promise, my doctor returned around lunch to check things out. No progress whatsoever. He looked at me and said we needed to go ahead and do the C-section. I surprised myself by nodding resolutely and saying, “Ok, let’s do it.”
Linda then told us that we would be heading into surgery at 2pm. Also known as IN 20 MINUTES.
I spent the next few minutes quizzing her on very practical implications of major abdominal surgery…
“How long will I stay in the hospital?”
“How long until I can drive?”
“Will I be *completely* numb or will I still feel a little bit of what’s going on?”
And then a pitiful, “Will you be in the room with me?” She smiled and held my hand and assured me that she would be there the whole time.
I was holding it together really well, not at all nervous or scared. That is until my mom walked into the room. As soon as I saw her, I garbled, “Hi, Mama” and started to cry. It wasn’t so much out of fear but more from feeling like I could finally have that emotional release. I then started to exclaim with joy that I now wouldn’t have to worry about pooping in front of anyone. The amount of happiness I got from that realization was a bit ridiculous.
A few minutes later, Ross put on his scrubs and we posed for a final sans-child picture:
Once I was wheeled into the operating room, I was shifted to the operating table and laid out all crucifix-like.
The look of calm on my face in this picture is a bit astounding to me, but that’s exactly how I felt. I was relaxed and ready to go.
Before we knew it the drape was up, and my doctor had arrived. I just kept saying, “I can’t believe this is finally happening” and telling Ross that I loved him. And then the magnitude of the impending birth of my child hit me. And thus began the sobbing…
I’m not one to weep with joy, but that’s the only way I can explain what’s going on here. Everything I had ever wanted was about to happen. It was intense and wonderful.
The whole surgery took just under 15 minutes. I didn’t feel a thing, really. Perhaps the sobbing distracted me from that. Suddenly I heard my doctor and the nurses yell, “Whoooooooaaaaaa!” Someone then shouted, “You had a toddler!” We also discovered that the baby was sitting in there sunny-side up, thus explaining the horrible back pain and confirming our decision to opt for surgery as such a position would have made “regular” delivery even more difficult, setting us up for a potential emergency situation. Yay validation!
Ross then peaked around the drape to get the answer to the question we’d been waiting for the entire pregnancy: boy or girl? I love how none of the medical staff announced it and left it to him instead. He looked back at me and said, “Awwww we have a son.”
And then I heard Jackson cry. And it was the single best moment of my entire life.
Linda brought him around the drape and I saw him in all his giant, slippery, wailing glory. Ross followed her back to the warmer as Jackson got cleaned up. Everyone kept marveling as the chub on this kid.
As I lied there getting put back together I felt more relaxed and at peace than I ever had in my entire life. Jackson’s birth had not gone at all how I pictured it. But it brought him here – my little boy, all I had ever wanted.