Four Months Ago: A Story of Labor

For at least two weeks before Liam was born I kept thinking I was having contractions or that my water was leaking. An exam showed that I was not leaking water and a stress test showed little contractions – irregular, but they were there – starting weeks before he was born.
At a Thursday doctor appointment I learn that I'm to be induced prior to my due date per the instructions of the doctors at Loyola. They want to schedule it for that next day, but I had too much I wanted to finish up at work for the sub. And since they don't induce over the weekend, we scheduled it for Monday morning. All day Friday at work I was busy busy busy getting things ready for the end of the school year and my sub. I left work Friday knowing I was not going back until next school year and feeling relieved knowing everything that needed to be done was done. And also knowing that, even if Baby decides to come this weekend, we will not have to drive in rush-hour traffic to get to the hospital.
Then Saturday came and I was planning on getting a mani and pedi, you know, so my toes and fingers would look good in all the baby pictures. But, I felt crappy all day and didn't feel like going anywhere, or doing anything. At noon I joked with Mike that we should just go to the hospital today. I couldn't eat dinner because I didn't feel good. Then I went to the bathroom and had some spotting and again joked with Mike that we should go to the hospital. After dinner (around 6pm) I started feeling contractions so I called my doctor – she told me to wait until they were more intense or closer together. We put Quinn to bed at 7pm. At 8pm they got more intense, but were not regular or closer together. I was keeping track of them at Contraction Master. I called the doctor anyhow and she said to come on in. At 8:15 we woke Quinn up and headed to the hospital. (grandma and grandpa came and got Quinn)
I was admitted right away and hooked up to a machine that would measure my contractions. From 9pm – 11pm I was handling them pretty well. I was able to breathe through them and focus on one of the buttons on Mike's shirt. Right as I was about to buzz the nurse to ask for something for the pain – she came in and informed me that the doctor wants to send me home, unless I show some progress with the next check. Apparently, my contractions were not intense or regular enough according to the machine. I look at Mike, "How the hell can they send me home? I was just about to ask for something for the pain." And so the nurse checks me out – and surprise surprise I've progressed from 4cm to 7cm. So clearly, something is happening. So I get to stay. Little did I know that in a few hours I'd be begging Mike to "Just Take Me Home. I Don't Want to Be Here Any More and Get These Damn wires off of Me. Now."
I did get an epidural for the pain. Did you know those things work 9 out of 10 times? Yeah, and I was in the 10% group of it NOT working. (Side note – it also didn't work for Quinn) I kept convincing myself that it was, in fact working, but clearly, my attitude to Mike and the Nurse would tell them otherwise. It's a little better, I'd say, after a contraction (not during. I will not discuss what I said during contractions). So from midnight – 4am I suffered through some very bad contractions. Mike suffered through some punches and squeezes and me yelling at him to Just Take Me Home. During those 4 hours the nurse kept asking if I wanted another epidural, maybe this one would take. And I kept saying no. Sitting through an epidural is hard work (and it hurts) and I did not want to attempt that while having horrible contractions. So I just figured I'd go "natural" and do this thing without the epidural. Then at 4:12am the nurse bought the epidural man back into my room. I hear her say, "She says she can't sit through it, but she really needs this." After talking to the guy and him assuring me that we could, in fact, work through the contractions AND place another epidural that would, in fact, work I gave in and let them try it again. I'm not sure what the epidural guy had to drink that night, but it took him like, 16 hours to put in the next epidural. Okay, maybe not 16 hours, but a hell of a long time. And many attempts. I know there were many attempts, because I saw the scars the next day. And it was not easy. But he did it. And I did it. And Mike did it (he left the room for the first one, but felt he was needed much more this time). And guess what. Just guess. It worked! It worked! It worked! If anybody had told me that an epidural was supposed to get rid of ALL the pain I would have asked for another one sooner. I thought it was just supposed to dull the pain. (Maybe somebody did tell me, but I just didn't pay attention. I'm sure I just assumed if I got the epidural it would do what it's supposed to do.) Anyway…so here we are, it's probably 4:30 or so, and I feel like I'm in heaven. ahhh. The next hour I spent sleeping. That's right. I slept through what's supposed to be the hardest part of labor. Only to wake up at 5:30 or so with an urge to, uh, go to the bathroom. Can't I just go to the bathroom? That mean nurse wouldn't let me. Something about me not being able to walk – what with no feeling in my legs in all. But I have to pee. and poop. Oh…just let me poop (and yes, I did say poop – I've got a toddler at home after all, we poop). With a quick check she discovers I'm almost, almost, ready to start pushing. Oh god, I think. That's going to take forever (please note – with Quinn I pushed for 3.5 hours, only to have him taken out with forceps, though if you've been reading this blog for awhile, you already knew that). I was not looking forward to the pushing. Then, at 5:45 I couldn't stand it – the nurse checked again and sure enough, we Can Start Pushing. All of a sudden, it's 6am and she's telling me not to push. She's got to get the doctor. I hear her go in the hallway and yell for someone to please get Dr. Chen. And so, I pipe in, rather loudly, "NOW!" (Those of you who know me, would be very surprised with just how loud I can be during labor/delivery. I was surprised myself.) Two minutes later the doctor is in. She talks me through a set of three pushes. I take a break. Then push some more and Voila! Little Liam makes his way into the world! I feel so relieved. And amazed. That's it? He's here? That wasn't too bad (see how quickly you forget). And then. Then they let me hold him. Right away. I loved it. They didn't even clean him up right away – they just put his tiny, screaming, body on me. I hope to never forget that feeling of holding him for the first time. He grabbed my finger and stopped screaming. I just kept repeating over and over, "He's okay. He's so beautiful. He's okay. He's okay. Look, Mike, he's okay." (see why I was so obsessed with him being okay here.) And then as I'm looking at My Baby (who is not yet named) I tell him, "You know, you're my favorite. Quinn made me push for 3 hours! But you, just 30 minutes. Yup, you're the favorite." And that. That made the doctor laugh as she was fixing me up. I also spent the next few minutes apologizing to Mike, The Nurse, The Doctor, and the Epidural Guy for my previous Rude Behavior. The Nurse assures me that she's seen worse. Sure she has. Sure she has.
And that's my labor and delivery story of this little guy. Four months ago yesterday. It seems like forever ago. We've had a rough first few months, but things are getting better and better every day.