Post by underwaterrhymes on Apr 3, 2013 13:43:10 GMT -5
Short Version: Birth plan (such as it was) went out the window. After nearly 24 hours of labor, we had the most beautiful, perfect baby on the planet and we got to take him home with us.
Really Fucking Long Version (sorry): Thursday, March 21 I woke up to bloody show. I think it's the only time in my life I've been excited about panty liners. (Two days earlier I'd been having contractions every two - four minutes and went to Labor and Delivery, but I wasn't dilated at all. They stopped on Wednesday, but I ate a metric ton of pineapple that night and bounced around on a yoga ball and apparently it was effective.)
About an hour after I woke up on Thursday the contractions kicked in again. I took the fact that I was needing to lean on a chair and breathe and periodically saying the word fuck as a good sign that the birth of our baby was imminent. Once again, they were only 2 - 3 minutes apart. H had gone in to work for an hour or so figuring it would be awhile, but I called him to hoof it on home around 11 AM.
My OB had us come to their office first. Unfortunately, I was only 1 centimeter dilated, but my contractions were so strong and close together that after an hour on the monitor she sent us to the hospital. I snarfed a bunch of goldfish crackers in the car, figuring that it might be awhile before I'd get to eat again.
When I got to the hospital I'd progressed to 2 centimeters - not great - but they admitted me as the contractions were consistently 2 minutes apart and growing increasingly painful. I wanted to tongue kiss the nurse that got me a room with a tub. They even "lit" fake electric candles and dimmed the lights. I might have appreciated the mood lighting if it weren't for the fucking contractions that were starting to make me want to rip my uterus out of my body. My goal was to go med-free, but after an hour of trying to go all zen, I told the midwife I was thinking that I was ready to ditch the tub and say hello to the epidural.
Just then my water broke in the tub and that settled it for me. Bring on the anesthesiologist!
It took about 20 minutes for him to come to my room and I swear it was the longest 20 minutes of my life. At this point the contractions were right on top of each other and lasting a minute and thirty seconds each, so I was only getting about 20 and 30 seconds in between each one. I was leaning on H and the midwife was pushing on my hips and I was cursing and groaning. I consider it a small success that I wasn't screaming because holy fuck you guys it was bad.
The anesthesiologist was my best friend. Not only did he get that thing in quickly and painlessly, but that shit WORKED. Feeling friendly and affectionate, I asked him, "What's your name?" He told us, "Kyle." I joked, "Don't be surprised, Kyle, if we name our kid after you!" He laughed, but then I looked at H and said, "Actually. I really like the name Kyle." H agreed and that is how our kid got his first name.
Shortly thereafter (around 7 pm) I was still only 4 cm, and one of the nurses and I talked H into going downstairs to get something to eat. That's when things went downhill. All of a sudden there were a bunch of people in my room. They flipped me over on my side, and then onto all fours, and slapped on an oxygen mask. I kept asking, "Is he okay? Is he okay?" and no one would tell me what was going on. Finally one of the nurses told me, "The baby's heart rate decelerated and your blood pressure dropped so we're prepping you for an emergency c-section." I started to cry and asked them to call my H. The nurse called him and told him to get back upstairs because there was an emergency.
Poor H came running into the room just as things were improving. I still had the oxygen mask on and apparently there was a lot of blood on the bed, but the baby had rallied and my blood pressure was coming back up, so they called off the c-section.
The rest of the night passed pretty uneventfully. I did start puking at one point, but after some Zofran that stopped. And someone really awesome and nice gave me a grape popsicle that was the best damn popsicle I've ever had.
Probably around 5 AM they checked me again and I was 10 cm. They decided to administer a small amount of Pitocin to help him move down a bit. By 7 AM I was ready to start pushing, but before I could make much progress Kyle had another decel and they thought they might have to use the vacuum. But he bounced back and they let me push him out slowly. I could feel the contractions, but they didn't hurt.
It made for really great pushing, but it also made for me being acutely aware that I pooped. I was like, "I'm pooping! I can tell I'm pooping! I'm sorry!" They laughed and told me it just meant I was pushing correctly.
After about an hour, I felt his head come out and they let me touch him, and then the next thing you know they were putting him on my belly. I looked over at H and he was laughing and crying and saying, "Oh my god! Oh my god!" It was the most incredible moment of my life.
I had a second-degree tear so they took their time sewing me up while Kyle was weighed and measured and then I finally got him back so I could nurse him.
Scary moments aside, I really couldn't have asked for a better birth experience. The staff at my hospital was amazing and we really received top notch care.
He's almost two weeks old and I can't imagine life without him. H and I are so in love with him. We're tired (and I'm a little emotional) but we are so, so happy. He's a really sweet baby - rarely cries, sleeps a lot - and is a champion breast feeder. (He weighed 6 pounds 15 ounces at birth and is already up to 8 pounds 1 ounce!)
He's just so much fun and I can't recall being on the fence about having kids because he's just so awesome. And pre-baby I couldn't imagine loving my H any more than I already did, but holy shit it multiplied by like 5,000,000.
And yes, I could tell when I pooped, too, but I was so focused on pushing I didn't say anything until after. The nurse REFUSED to acknowledge it but Jake was like "yup." Lite epis are awesome if you go that route (I did) because of everything you said.
You would not be surprised by the amount of woman who exclaim the CRNA as their savior and say they are going to name the baby after them. I don't know if I have seen anyone do it though, lol.
Awww, UWR, your story made me tear up! Especially the part about you not remembering questioning having a child and how much more in love with your H you are now. So sweet. And I love how Kyle got his name! Thanks for sharing your story with us.