Post by heisenberg on Apr 26, 2017 9:15:13 GMT -5
It's long so get a snack. And PDQ.
On April 12, I was 40+4. I had two scheduled appointments: a NST and an OB visit. For some reason, I made my husband come, even though he rarely came to appointments throughout this pregnancy because we were conserving leave (plus second baby). I had been having irregular contractions for about a week, and they were starting to pick up a bit.
Everything went relatively well at the appointments. We set an eviction date for April 16. The OB did an aggressive membrane sweep (I was already 3-4 centimeters and thinning out), and we discussed monitoring my blood pressure, which was pretty high that visit. As part of that process, I had to get labs drawn and had several contractions just while waiting.
My husband and I were going to get lunch, but there was a line out the door to the place we wanted to go. I was having a lot of contractions at that point and asked him to drive me home instead. He was supposed to go to work, and I was going to cab home (already on maternity leave), but I really wanted him to stay with me. We live close to the hospital, but there's always a bottleneck of traffic that makes the drive longer than it should be.
I started timing contractions in the car and continued at home. They were three minutes apart and bad but not so bad that I couldn't talk through them. I thought I was being a wuss and they'd settle down if I laid down. Nope. After an hour of regular contractions, we called the nurse line. I was kind of embarrassed because I thought I was overreacting to Braxton Hicks or something. She said to wait another hour and then come in if they stayed regular. Or to come in sooner if I preferred just to get checked out since only I know my body. I chose the latter, and we left maybe 5 minutes later. Keep in mind that we don't have a car, so we're driving a car share "smart car" everywhere (basically a glorified go cart). I felt EVERY BUMP in that damn bottleneck.
We got to the hospital and I could barely walk to L&D (through an afternoon farmer's market no less) and barely do the paperwork (no idea what I signed). I think it was 2 or 3 PM at that point. Contractions were coming fast and furious. They sent me to triage, where I was hooked up, checked (I was at 5 cm), admitted, and promised an epidural. The resident was chewing gum and seemed bored by me and my contractions. Then, I waited in triage for what seemed like an eternity. The contractions were coming so quickly. I wanted to vomit or pass out. They gave me a cold washcloth. It was nice. The nurse came to get an iv and could barely do it since she was trying to work when I wasn't contracting. I had a one line birth plan: “healthy baby and mama and I want an epidural," and I kept asking my husband why they weren't helping me. A lady was moaning in the triage room next to me.
Finally, after maybe an hour (or possibly 15 minutes, who knows), we got a L&D room. I was curled in a ball on my side, grabbing the bars to the bed and possibly dying. The nurses made me put my hands inside the bed so they didn't get mashed in the door as they wheeled me to the room. They could've mashed away for all I cared. I kept thinking "how do people do this without drugs? I'm only 5 centimeters."
In the L&D room, they wanted to transfer me to a new bed. I told them I couldn't do it. They told me I had to. I finally sort of rolled onto the new bed and resumed my balled position on my side grabbing the bars to the bed. The nurse was trying to hook me back up to the monitors, and I'm pretty sure I was being belligerent. I just didn't understand why it hurt so bad, why there were no breaks between contractions, and where my epidural was.
A few minutes later, I told the nurse I needed to poop. A few seconds later, I felt the most uncontrollable urge to push. I told the nurse, "I need to push. Can I push? I can't not push." I didn't care what she said. I pushed anyway. It was the most primal urge I had ever felt. At some point my water broke. I pictured it just shooting out of me. Needless to say, the nurse was on the phone and three residents quickly appeared. I didn't see them because I was still on my side. They lifted one leg and checked to see if I had any cervix left and let me push. I think baby girl was out in maybe 5 or 6 pushes? It burned but it was exquisite, and that final push was the best physical relief I've ever felt. She cried, and they pulled her onto my chest, and I was pretty much thinking What. The. Fuck. It was 4:04 PM. Two hours ago, I didn't even know whether I was in labor, and now one of the most beautiful creatures I've ever seen was chillin' on my body staring up at me.
At an earlier appointment, my OB had told me that "labor is like love, you'll know it when you see it." That was SO not my experience, maybe due to self doubt, or not educating myself properly on the stages of labor since I was so solidly team epidural. He may have been wrong about that, but he was right about one thing. I knew love when I saw it. And she's perfect. We named her Ir.is Cla.ire.
On April 12, I was 40+4. I had two scheduled appointments: a NST and an OB visit. For some reason, I made my husband come, even though he rarely came to appointments throughout this pregnancy because we were conserving leave (plus second baby). I had been having irregular contractions for about a week, and they were starting to pick up a bit.
Everything went relatively well at the appointments. We set an eviction date for April 16. The OB did an aggressive membrane sweep (I was already 3-4 centimeters and thinning out), and we discussed monitoring my blood pressure, which was pretty high that visit. As part of that process, I had to get labs drawn and had several contractions just while waiting.
My husband and I were going to get lunch, but there was a line out the door to the place we wanted to go. I was having a lot of contractions at that point and asked him to drive me home instead. He was supposed to go to work, and I was going to cab home (already on maternity leave), but I really wanted him to stay with me. We live close to the hospital, but there's always a bottleneck of traffic that makes the drive longer than it should be.
I started timing contractions in the car and continued at home. They were three minutes apart and bad but not so bad that I couldn't talk through them. I thought I was being a wuss and they'd settle down if I laid down. Nope. After an hour of regular contractions, we called the nurse line. I was kind of embarrassed because I thought I was overreacting to Braxton Hicks or something. She said to wait another hour and then come in if they stayed regular. Or to come in sooner if I preferred just to get checked out since only I know my body. I chose the latter, and we left maybe 5 minutes later. Keep in mind that we don't have a car, so we're driving a car share "smart car" everywhere (basically a glorified go cart). I felt EVERY BUMP in that damn bottleneck.
We got to the hospital and I could barely walk to L&D (through an afternoon farmer's market no less) and barely do the paperwork (no idea what I signed). I think it was 2 or 3 PM at that point. Contractions were coming fast and furious. They sent me to triage, where I was hooked up, checked (I was at 5 cm), admitted, and promised an epidural. The resident was chewing gum and seemed bored by me and my contractions. Then, I waited in triage for what seemed like an eternity. The contractions were coming so quickly. I wanted to vomit or pass out. They gave me a cold washcloth. It was nice. The nurse came to get an iv and could barely do it since she was trying to work when I wasn't contracting. I had a one line birth plan: “healthy baby and mama and I want an epidural," and I kept asking my husband why they weren't helping me. A lady was moaning in the triage room next to me.
Finally, after maybe an hour (or possibly 15 minutes, who knows), we got a L&D room. I was curled in a ball on my side, grabbing the bars to the bed and possibly dying. The nurses made me put my hands inside the bed so they didn't get mashed in the door as they wheeled me to the room. They could've mashed away for all I cared. I kept thinking "how do people do this without drugs? I'm only 5 centimeters."
In the L&D room, they wanted to transfer me to a new bed. I told them I couldn't do it. They told me I had to. I finally sort of rolled onto the new bed and resumed my balled position on my side grabbing the bars to the bed. The nurse was trying to hook me back up to the monitors, and I'm pretty sure I was being belligerent. I just didn't understand why it hurt so bad, why there were no breaks between contractions, and where my epidural was.
A few minutes later, I told the nurse I needed to poop. A few seconds later, I felt the most uncontrollable urge to push. I told the nurse, "I need to push. Can I push? I can't not push." I didn't care what she said. I pushed anyway. It was the most primal urge I had ever felt. At some point my water broke. I pictured it just shooting out of me. Needless to say, the nurse was on the phone and three residents quickly appeared. I didn't see them because I was still on my side. They lifted one leg and checked to see if I had any cervix left and let me push. I think baby girl was out in maybe 5 or 6 pushes? It burned but it was exquisite, and that final push was the best physical relief I've ever felt. She cried, and they pulled her onto my chest, and I was pretty much thinking What. The. Fuck. It was 4:04 PM. Two hours ago, I didn't even know whether I was in labor, and now one of the most beautiful creatures I've ever seen was chillin' on my body staring up at me.
At an earlier appointment, my OB had told me that "labor is like love, you'll know it when you see it." That was SO not my experience, maybe due to self doubt, or not educating myself properly on the stages of labor since I was so solidly team epidural. He may have been wrong about that, but he was right about one thing. I knew love when I saw it. And she's perfect. We named her Ir.is Cla.ire.
