The Labor Story - Part Three

Now that it's been three weeks since I went through all this, I suppose it's time to finish up the story. When I left off, I had taken Nubain and was getting to relax a little bit. That lasted for about an hour and-a-half, when the Nubain wore off. That was really unfortunate, I must say. More contractions, back to full force. It was getting worse before it would get better.

Things are a little fuzzy now that I look back. But then, they were a little fuzzy the morning after it happened. So I'm sure the next several events I'm going to relay are out of order, not quite right, or otherwise compromised. Whatever, you'll get the picture. But the way I remember it is like this: After the Nubain wore off, I was back in a lot of pain (naturally), but I had continued to progress. As to how much progression there had been, I can't remember. But there was talk of "bulging waters" whenever I'd have a contraction. Since my water hadn't broken yet, I thought this might be a sign that I'd break my own water rather than having it done manually by the doctor with the scary water-breaking hook thingy. Sure enough, in the midst of a particularly hard contraction sometime later, I felt an enormous gush of water. Like peeing my pants, only 1) out of an unusual area, and 2) accompanied with a LOT of pain.

Once my water had broken, the pain shifted. Up to that point, the pain had been caused by a bag of water against bone. With the bag gone, the pain was now caused by the Weeble's bony skull against my pelvic bones. I don't think it was too terribly long after that I gave in completely and asked for the epidural. This was a big step for me.

Let me back up a bit. I don't like things to do with the spine. It's just a thing with me. When it comes to the very sensitive business taking place on my back, I want everyone's hands off. Granted, epidurals are done so commonly, I had no real need to be worried about damage. And of course, I still didn't want to slow things down. But at that point, labor could have gone on for six more days and I wouldn't have cared so long as I didn't feel like my insides were being ripped out with meat hooks. So the epidural doctor or whoever came in and sent M away (apparently husbands don't get to watch this kind of thing being done - guess I'm not the only one with spinal issues). It wasn't painful at all having the catheter inserted. The only difficult part was being curled into myself while having contractions. Thankfully, the doctor was highly practiced and it took fewer than five minutes (I think) and only two contractions. When the drugs started into my system, it was cold, tingly, and uncomfortable. And then it was pure joy as my lower half disappeared. Well, not completely. I could still feel the pressure of contractions, but it was no longer painful. When M returned to the room, he found me relaxed and happy. We took advantage by both taking an hour-long nap.

After the nap, things really get fuzzy. Someone must have checked me at some point and decided it was getting time for me to push or something. Next thing I know, the nurse has got one of my legs and M has the other, and I'm being told to grab the backs of my thighs and start pushing. Now, for those of you who haven't gotten to participate in the delights of pushing out a baby, allow me to elaborate on the pushing process. In short, pushing out a baby should (and does) feel much like pushing out a monster turd. Yes, that is correct. If it feels like you're going to poop your pants, you're doing it right.

I'd read all about this and heard it from friends who had labored with their babies. So it wasn't a complete surprise. What was a surprise was that this first stage of pushing took place with only the nurse and M in the room - not the 54 odd people I'd been led to believe were in the delivery room at any given moment. I had been semi-OK with the idea that I might drop a load on the table to a large audience while pushing the kid out. I was decidedly less OK with my audience being just my husband. That's the height of vulnerability, not to mention seriously "ew".

Overall, I think I pushed for about 90 minutes or so. The nurse, god bless her, was kind and generous and didn't make me push with every contraction, allowing me to take a break. The epidural had worn off completely by this point, so every push just enhanced that earlier feeling of my insides being ripped out by meat hooks. When the doctor came in, however, it was all work and no rest. No breaks with that guy (my doctor had long since ended her shift). It was "Push, push, push! Keep going! Harder! HARDER!" GAH!

The rest of it is quite a blur. I remember one particularly nasty contraction that went on for something like five minutes (and that left me in tears). I remember telling M I wanted to stop and go home. And I remember a lot of pain and pressure. I'd describe it, but there are people with sensitive stomaches that read this blog and I like to retain as many readers as possible. Besides, nobody can really know what it felt like except for me. I assure you, this portion of labor is what warranted the comment, "Labor sucks".

Halfway through the pushing, I had to have an episiotomy; or, as the doctor referred to it, "a small nick". I didn't feel it, what with all the other stuff going on down there. But I did see it since the nurses had set up a mirror for my viewing enjoyment. I can't say I'd recommend the mirror to everyone, but I did appreciate it - particularly when the Weeble made her appearance. Before that moment, though, it was quite the experience just to watch my lady business be utterly and completely altered by the efforts of pushing out the kid. Again, I won't provide details. Besides, I'd just as soon forget what I saw anyway.

The last few moments of pushing were the most excruciating. I'd been having contractions on top of one another, no breaks to speak of. The baby's head was finally out, and on the next push, her shoulders were, too. And then the doctor made me stop pushing. He needed to position her properly, I guess. So no pushing. WORST PAIN EVER. I can't really explain the pushing urge, but it's something your body feels compelled to do. And by "compelled" I mean you'd rather poke a large stick in your eye than NOT push when the urge arises. So when the doctor said to stop pushing, that was bad enough. Add the fact that I had to stop while her shoulders were halfway out... oh, god, I get faint just thinking about it. Then I just had to wait for the next contraction. Only, suddenly, it wouldn't come. And wouldn't come. And wouldn't come. I don't know how long we waited for it, but at one point I yelled, "Where is the goddamn contraction!?!?"

In the end, the contraction finally came, and so did Fiona. She had an amazingly round head for a baby that came through the birth canal. It was so round that for the rest of our hospital stay people kept assuming she'd arrived by c-section. I got to take one good look at her before they whisked her off to the opposite side of the room to weigh her and evaluate her. Meanwhile, the doctor set about fixing up my nether regions while Fiona aced her Apgars (9 and 10). I didn't get to hold her again for about 40 minutes, which was no fun. But I guess holding her while being stitched up down there wouldn't have been so great either, since I was yelling "Ow ow ow ow!" at the doctor.

But then they put her in my arms and I was overcome. Sure, it was the flood of emotion and love that you feel when you hold your new child. But mostly I was overwhelmed by the final reward for all the work of labor. Here she was at last. I had worked so hard for her, and it hurt so badly. But she was there. And she was perfect.