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.

The Labor Story - Part Two

M, Mom and I arrived at the hospital around 2:30am on Friday, August 17th. The place was blissfully quiet and downright serene. It seemed like we were the only people there as we made our way to the labor and delivery ward. I resisted the offer of a wheelchair at first, but thankfully changed my mind. The contractions weren't super painful yet, but they definitely made walking difficult. And it seemed like the corridor was endless, as was the elevator ride, before we finally got to our destination. By this point I was pretty tired, having been up for 21 hours already.

A nurse put M and me into a room, gave me a hospital johnny (so sexy!) and hooked me up to a couple monitors to track the baby's heartbeat and my contractions. Thus began a very boring hour, where we waited in a tiny room, me on the bed, M on a chair, staring at a monitor because the only thing on TV was Hanging with Mr. Cooper or some equally boring show. Admittedly it was fun to have M tell me, "You're having a contraction... and now it's peaking... and now it's going down," based on what he could see from the monitor. Otherwise, it was just boring. Except for the part when the nurse came in to give me my first pelvic exam. Hoo. Ray. Having a contraction while being poked and prodded from the inside is totally NOT awesome. When she first did it, I was no more progressed than I had been at my last doctor appointment the previous Tuesday (1 cm. and 80% effaced, for those of you who know what I'm talking about). So I thought for sure at that point it was fake labor. But when the nurse returned and did a second exam, finding that I was 3 cm. (while contracting) and 100% effaced, it seemed like the time had come.

Sure enough, I was admitted and we got our very own room for the duration. There was a moment when we were moving over to the room where I would labor, deliver, and then recover until we went home when I panicked. I realized, all of a sudden, that this was it. By the end of this particular road, I would be a mother. Have a completely foreign life. And have a baby for which her father and I would be 100% responsible. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I heard, "No, no, no! I'm not ready for this yet!" But the inevitability of my body's processes quieted the panic enough so that I didn't freak out and make a me-shaped hole in the hospital wall.

Once we got settled, it was just more waiting around for not much to happen. By then, it was nearly 4:00. The admitting nurse started going through a bunch of paperwork, which was not so much fun considering the fact that every few minutes I felt like my insides were turning inside out. She kept asking me questions I couldn't answer fully, giving me information I couldn't process properly, handing me documents to sign that I could barely focus on, and overall badgering the hell out of me while I was in a lot of pain. Looking back on it, she was just doing what she needed to do paperwork-wise. But it seemed downright cruel at the time. Thankfully, she had the patience of a saint, and kept badgering to a minimum during the peaks of my contractions.

Around 6:00, my doctor showed up to check on me. Hers was a welcome familiar face, although she wasn't there too long and when she checked me (yippee, more internal prodding!) I wasn't any farther along than the last check: 3 cm, and down to 80% effaced. Sigh. If I remember correctly, she came back one more time just before getting off shift at 7:00 and checked me again, but by then I was so tired that the memory is foggy of those morning hours. I got a new nurse, Marah, at 7:00 and she was with me through delivery. I loved Marah. She was so motherly and kind. She didn't badger me, and when I had a hard contraction, she would say things like, "You're doing so well, I am really impressed." The kind of stuff she probably says to all patients, but that made me feel like I could go on.

I think it was around 7:30 or so I'd had it with the contractions and asked for Nubain (a relatively mild pain medication administered via IV and a shot to the arse) to take the edge off. I had wanted very much to remain drug-free through labor and I was extremely leery of doing anything that would slow down the process. I held off on Nubain until this point because I'd rather deal with the pain then having this labor business go on any longer than absolutely necessary. By this point, though, I'd just about had it. I was so tired that I just needed a break. Labor takes a lot out of you, especially when you've been up for over 24 hours. (And before any of my competitive mommy readers wants to point out that my labor was probably the easiest thing since slicing bread compared to their labors, I don't wanna hear it - everybody's labor sucks in its own way. Am I right? Yes, of course I'm right. It's my blog.)

Anyway, once the Nubain kicked in a bit, I could actually relax a little. I was still in pain, of course, but I managed to sleep a little between contractions. So I had about 90 minutes of 2 minute catnaps alternating with three-minute contractions. Not ideal, but it made me able to deal with things a little better.

Next installment: Water, water, everywhere; more drugs, and the big push. Come for the science, stay for the gory details!

The Labor Story - Part One

For the very few of you who are interested in the long story of Fiona's birth, this post is for you. Mostly, I want to write it down for my own purposes so I don't forget any more than I already have. To me, it is interesting and fascinating. To others, eh, not so much. So don't feel bad if you want to skip this one.

But here it is, from the beginning. Thursday 8/16 at work, I started feeling weird. Not really bad, but just not good. My usual Braxton Hicks contractions were a bit more painful than usual. By 2:00 that afternoon, I started thinking that maybe I should be done with coming into the office and working from home going forward. By the end of the day, I was saying as much to co-workers. Nothing definite, of course, but I prepared for the possibility that I would not return to the office the next day.

I carpooled to work that day, and during the ride home, my contractions seemed to be getting stronger and more regular. But since I usually had most of my contractions when I was in the car, whether driving or riding, I didn't worry too much about it. Still, I said nothing about it to my friend who was driving. This ensured he did not freak out and drive off the road or drop me on a corner somewhere after dialing 911 (me going into labor in his car - or even in his presence - made him quite nervous, naturally). My last leg home, which I drove, was even more intense to the point that I called my best friend to distract me.

I got home where I was greeted by my mother who had been graciously picked up from the airport by my in-laws. We had planned the dates of her visit with some trepidation, not knowing for sure when Weeble would actually arrive. It could have been a week before my mother, it could have been two weeks after. As it turned out, of course, she arrived in the nick of time. By 8:00 that night, I was starting to suspect it was real labor and started packing my hospital bag (well, "started" isn't quite right... I had put slippers into a bag prior to that evening). By 11:00, the patterns broke down and I thought I was off the hook for one more night. Not so. 11:30 came and everything started up again. M went to bed around 12:00 or so, while my mother and I stayed up. Frankly, I was too uncomfortable (and starting to freak out) too much to sleep. But at 1:30, it seemed like it would be a good idea to at least try so I went to bed with my doctor's phone number, two telephones, and one of the waterproof crib sheets we had for Weeble underneath me (in case of water breaking). Three contractions (inside of 10 minutes) later and I decided a call to the doctor was in order. Clearly, sleep would be out of the picture tonight. Sure enough, she said to come in to the hospital to be checked. What a stroke of luck that she was on call.

M had woken up at this point, so we began making preparations to go. Being uncertain about how the night (morning) would proceed, my mom opted to come with us to the hospital to wait it out. So we all piled into the car a bit after 2:00 and headed out in the quiet and dark of the very early morning.

Next installment: The never-ending night, real labor, and just how bad it actually hurts. Stay tuned!

I was right: Labor DOES suck

A week later and I finally have the time to confirm what at least 95% of my readers already know or guessed: it was the real deal indeed. Last Thursday, August 16th, I went into labor. By 12:40 the next day, I had a whole new life, and Weeble had a new name. Since it's a lovely story, it deserves its own post, which I'll put up shortly.

Until then, I can confirm that labor totally sucks. So does the delivery part. It was exhausting, excruciating, and the hardest thing I've ever done. And no, the "mommy amnesia" thing that allows women to consider the remote possibility of doing it another time has not yet kicked in. But it was amazing all the same, and so is the result of all that hard work.

Now begins the fun part. Parenting.

Oh. My. God. What have we done?

Labor might just suck a little

I'm still pregnant, which may seem surprising given my recent silence. But that's just a delightful side-effect of crazy work and home schedules. But as of tonight, I'm out of the office for the duration, even if I'm continuing to work from home over the next few days before Weeble deigns to make her grand entrance.

I'm not sure there will be any more working from home, though. It could be false labor, sure, but what's going on here tonight is NOT all that much fun. In fact, it kinda sucks. Every 4-6 minutes, lasting 30-60 seconds each, I've been having contractions. Actually, this has been going on since this afternoon, but it's decidedly more painful now than it was at, say, 3:00 today.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say this is the real deal right now. And I don't know better, so maybe it is. ACK, given the contraction I'm having right now, I could be persuaded to say my insides are about to fall directly out of me. ALL my insides, not just Weeble.

Well, I'm going to try and get some sleep anyway. Does this labor business get worse than this? Shit, I think it's going to. Dang, I'm starting to forget why I wanted to do this.

More to come, happy betters. I'll keep you all posted.