Monday
Jun142010
The Labor Story: Out the Window, Part II
Monday, June 14, 2010 at 5:48AM
The Labor Story: Part I
I hesitate to use the word “pain” for a few reasons. First, I don’t want to scare those ladies out there who have yet to experience what it is to go into labor and give birth. Second, everyone out there has her own experience – some people will say it was all pretty easy and others will say it was the most painful, awful experience of their lives. So, please know that what I write here was MY experience and is likely similar to what some have experienced and will experience and, at the same time, far from what still others experience.
And, I write that above statement because at this point in my labor, two hours in from contraction numero uno where they were now about a minute apart and we were heading into the car to go to the Emergency Room, I was in PAIN.
It was unreal. Nothing was comfortable. There was no manipulation of sitting or standing that felt good – at all. The contractions were coming so fast and so furious that I barely had time in between to talk, let alone catch my breath.
The only position that felt like I could do it without passing out was some form of squatting. Sitting regular style in the front seat of the car was out of the question. I had wanted to lie in back seat, but it was full with our car seat, a birthing ball and hospital things that didn’t fit in the trunk.
I didn’t care about safety. I didn’t care about possibly getting pulled over. I climbed in the front seat backwards, facing the back of the car, arms wrapped around the headrest, my legs folded child’s pose style under me. I gripped the headrest so hard, had it been alive I would have killed it in an instant.
As we drove, I moaned loudly through each contraction, barely getting a break in between. Later, my husband would laugh because at that time I had asked him to say a few key words to me that Hypnobabies put in my head: Relax, Release and Peace. Here I was making sounds that you would expect from, not just a DYING animal, but an animal that had been STABBED repeatedly, and my husband is going, “Relax. Peace.” I’m sure the scene looked ridiculous. However, as difficult as it was to truly relax, those words helped. When I DID try to really relax all my abdominal muscles, it just felt like my whole pelvic floor was going to bust open and everything would come pouring out.
I kept my eyes closed for the majority of the car ride out of fear that I would open them and see that we weren’t as far along as I had hoped. Thankfully, by the time I decided to open them (mainly because now, on top of the intense pain, my legs had begun to fall asleep and I contemplated turning around) we were exiting the freeway onto the road that would lead us to the hospital. Tom, thankfully, had driven about 90mph the whole way. It was the longest car ride of my life, but at the same time, it was faster than I expected.
We followed the signs to the ER, went in and announced I was in labor. Probably something we really didn’t need to say considering there was suddenly a very pregnant lady standing in the foyer moaning like previously said animal. Pretty sure I scared the shit out of everyone waiting in the ER. Some kid must have asked his mom what the living hell was wrong with me because somewhere in the background I heard a woman say, “She’s having a baby, honey.” I really hope her child was a boy. Otherwise, I can guarantee you I just gave some little girl a reason to go to therapy.
We were standing at some admittance desk where this guy started asking us about our insurance. This infuriated me being that we had filled out our pre-admission papers WEEKS ago. When I expressed this, we were told they didn’t have it. Lovely. If I didn’t need him to remain calm, Tom probably would have broken someone’s neck.
Now, if you remember from Part I, I was bleeding like crazy. That was still the case. So, I announced to this man, “I’m about to bleed all over your floor.” (Scaring the people in the ER even more.) And, much to my horror, he responds with, “That’s ok.” NOT THE ANSWER I WANTED. I did NOT want it to be OKAY that I bleed on the floor. I wanted it to be, “Holy shit, get her in a room and get drugs in her STAT!” That was the response I was hoping for.
And that was the next lofty idea to go out the window – the idea to have a natural birth. Although, I have to be honest, it was during CONTRACTION NUMBER ONE that my brain went, “Oh boy. If this is just the beginning, I don’t think the end will come without some drugs in my system.”
Finally, I was told to sit in a wheelchair while Tom went and parked the car. A nurse took me to a bank of elevators and told me that we had to go to the second floor. She might have told me we had to drive cross county.
I moaned louder and louder. For two reasons. The first is that it felt better to moan than just breathe. The second is that I was hoping my moans would signal to all medical staff within a 5 mile radius that I was in PAIN, the WORST PAIN OF MY LIFE and I NEEDED DRUGS A WEEK AGO.
It wasn’t my moaning, but the fact that I was bleeding so bad that made me a case to be attended to ASAP. So, at least I had that going for me. I was told that my doctor would be there in just a few minutes and that the anesthesiologist would, too (I can’t recall how many times the word “drugs” came out of my mouth. It was like I had Turrets and that was the only thing I could stay. “Drugs. Drugs. Drugs.”) I was so worried about getting the drugs because I heard it could take up to an hour. Luckily, like I said, I was apparently considered some type of important case due to bleeding.
My doctor arrived, checked me and confirmed that I was almost 5cm.
And it was at this point where my suspicions over the past few days were confirmed. She said my water had broken and my membranes were ruptured and I was fully effaced. Over the past three or four days, I was leaking a fluid that I guessed might be amniotic fluid. It smelled like cleaner and was pretty alkaline, according to my litmus paper test. (Yes, I own litmus paper.) SO, basically, I’d leak and then my daughter’s head would act as a plug every time I sat up or stood. Being that this happened for several days, by the time I went into labor, my water was pretty much all gone, taking away any cushion that the bag of water provides.
My contractions were coming less than a minute apart. They were so close together that one would barely be ebbing away before the next would start. I lay there on the hospital table, eyes shut, moaning. I remember opening my eyes at one point and seeing about 8 or 9 nurses around me, presumably because of all the blood. They’d put an absorbent pad under me and then change it out for a new one. Contraction-wise, I felt like I was in the ocean being slammed against the sea wall over and over with no reprieve.
Tom had called my folks and my doula; all were on their way.
I lay there, scared, moaning, my hands and feet tingling from slightly hyperventilating, fuzzily thinking how no one can prepare you for this and trying to focus on the fact that the anesthesiologist was on his way and that relief would come. Relief was coming. It was on its way.
It was about 10:45am. Three hours from my first contraction.
The Labor Story: Part III
The Labor Story: Out the Window, Part I
I hesitate to use the word “pain” for a few reasons. First, I don’t want to scare those ladies out there who have yet to experience what it is to go into labor and give birth. Second, everyone out there has her own experience – some people will say it was all pretty easy and others will say it was the most painful, awful experience of their lives. So, please know that what I write here was MY experience and is likely similar to what some have experienced and will experience and, at the same time, far from what still others experience.
And, I write that above statement because at this point in my labor, two hours in from contraction numero uno where they were now about a minute apart and we were heading into the car to go to the Emergency Room, I was in PAIN.
It was unreal. Nothing was comfortable. There was no manipulation of sitting or standing that felt good – at all. The contractions were coming so fast and so furious that I barely had time in between to talk, let alone catch my breath.
The only position that felt like I could do it without passing out was some form of squatting. Sitting regular style in the front seat of the car was out of the question. I had wanted to lie in back seat, but it was full with our car seat, a birthing ball and hospital things that didn’t fit in the trunk.
I didn’t care about safety. I didn’t care about possibly getting pulled over. I climbed in the front seat backwards, facing the back of the car, arms wrapped around the headrest, my legs folded child’s pose style under me. I gripped the headrest so hard, had it been alive I would have killed it in an instant.
As we drove, I moaned loudly through each contraction, barely getting a break in between. Later, my husband would laugh because at that time I had asked him to say a few key words to me that Hypnobabies put in my head: Relax, Release and Peace. Here I was making sounds that you would expect from, not just a DYING animal, but an animal that had been STABBED repeatedly, and my husband is going, “Relax. Peace.” I’m sure the scene looked ridiculous. However, as difficult as it was to truly relax, those words helped. When I DID try to really relax all my abdominal muscles, it just felt like my whole pelvic floor was going to bust open and everything would come pouring out.
I kept my eyes closed for the majority of the car ride out of fear that I would open them and see that we weren’t as far along as I had hoped. Thankfully, by the time I decided to open them (mainly because now, on top of the intense pain, my legs had begun to fall asleep and I contemplated turning around) we were exiting the freeway onto the road that would lead us to the hospital. Tom, thankfully, had driven about 90mph the whole way. It was the longest car ride of my life, but at the same time, it was faster than I expected.
We followed the signs to the ER, went in and announced I was in labor. Probably something we really didn’t need to say considering there was suddenly a very pregnant lady standing in the foyer moaning like previously said animal. Pretty sure I scared the shit out of everyone waiting in the ER. Some kid must have asked his mom what the living hell was wrong with me because somewhere in the background I heard a woman say, “She’s having a baby, honey.” I really hope her child was a boy. Otherwise, I can guarantee you I just gave some little girl a reason to go to therapy.
We were standing at some admittance desk where this guy started asking us about our insurance. This infuriated me being that we had filled out our pre-admission papers WEEKS ago. When I expressed this, we were told they didn’t have it. Lovely. If I didn’t need him to remain calm, Tom probably would have broken someone’s neck.
Now, if you remember from Part I, I was bleeding like crazy. That was still the case. So, I announced to this man, “I’m about to bleed all over your floor.” (Scaring the people in the ER even more.) And, much to my horror, he responds with, “That’s ok.” NOT THE ANSWER I WANTED. I did NOT want it to be OKAY that I bleed on the floor. I wanted it to be, “Holy shit, get her in a room and get drugs in her STAT!” That was the response I was hoping for.
And that was the next lofty idea to go out the window – the idea to have a natural birth. Although, I have to be honest, it was during CONTRACTION NUMBER ONE that my brain went, “Oh boy. If this is just the beginning, I don’t think the end will come without some drugs in my system.”
Finally, I was told to sit in a wheelchair while Tom went and parked the car. A nurse took me to a bank of elevators and told me that we had to go to the second floor. She might have told me we had to drive cross county.
I moaned louder and louder. For two reasons. The first is that it felt better to moan than just breathe. The second is that I was hoping my moans would signal to all medical staff within a 5 mile radius that I was in PAIN, the WORST PAIN OF MY LIFE and I NEEDED DRUGS A WEEK AGO.
It wasn’t my moaning, but the fact that I was bleeding so bad that made me a case to be attended to ASAP. So, at least I had that going for me. I was told that my doctor would be there in just a few minutes and that the anesthesiologist would, too (I can’t recall how many times the word “drugs” came out of my mouth. It was like I had Turrets and that was the only thing I could stay. “Drugs. Drugs. Drugs.”) I was so worried about getting the drugs because I heard it could take up to an hour. Luckily, like I said, I was apparently considered some type of important case due to bleeding.
My doctor arrived, checked me and confirmed that I was almost 5cm.
And it was at this point where my suspicions over the past few days were confirmed. She said my water had broken and my membranes were ruptured and I was fully effaced. Over the past three or four days, I was leaking a fluid that I guessed might be amniotic fluid. It smelled like cleaner and was pretty alkaline, according to my litmus paper test. (Yes, I own litmus paper.) SO, basically, I’d leak and then my daughter’s head would act as a plug every time I sat up or stood. Being that this happened for several days, by the time I went into labor, my water was pretty much all gone, taking away any cushion that the bag of water provides.
My contractions were coming less than a minute apart. They were so close together that one would barely be ebbing away before the next would start. I lay there on the hospital table, eyes shut, moaning. I remember opening my eyes at one point and seeing about 8 or 9 nurses around me, presumably because of all the blood. They’d put an absorbent pad under me and then change it out for a new one. Contraction-wise, I felt like I was in the ocean being slammed against the sea wall over and over with no reprieve.
Tom had called my folks and my doula; all were on their way.
I lay there, scared, moaning, my hands and feet tingling from slightly hyperventilating, fuzzily thinking how no one can prepare you for this and trying to focus on the fact that the anesthesiologist was on his way and that relief would come. Relief was coming. It was on its way.
It was about 10:45am. Three hours from my first contraction.
The Labor Story: Part III
The Labor Story: Out the Window, Part I
Copyright; 2011, Blahggy. All rights reserved.
Reader Comments (14)
I've read of other women taking the exact same position in the car, backwards in the front seat like that. I'm pretty sure had you been pulled over, one stabbed-animal-moan and that cop would have given you a police escort to the hospital.
I, too, would have kept my eyes closed for fear of seeing how far away the hospital is. And when I was 11, I saw the "Miracle of Life" video at school and swore up and down that I would never, ever have a baby... and I got over it, so if that kid was a girl, she'll be okay. :)
Your description of what this was all like is pretty much exactly how I've always imagined it to be - incredibly, terribly, horribly painful. Thank you for not sugarcoating. :) Can't wait to read the next installment!
A friend of mine told her how the doctor (some innocent young intern) FORCED her to lie on her back for most of her labour, until her GP finally arrived. She said it was excruciating - she wanted to be in a ball, like you did.
OK, I'm that little girl in the ER, I'll need therapy for this. JUST KIDDING. Actually, I was always told I'm VERY tolerant when it comes to pain and I agree. Very tolerant.
Thank you for sharing! I need all the birth stories I can find lol, to easy my fear. I love that you have litmus paper at home too and that you used it ;p.
Thank you for making me feel better about the kid in the ER! Although, it seems I have now confirmed YOUR fears!
Yeah, lying flat on your back is in no way awesome.
Me, not so tolerant. So, perhaps you'll do better than I did!
Oh, God, I don't know if I eased your fear any! The good part is that it eventually ends!
Okay, I read part one as I ate my egg salad sandwich for dinner. Maybe not the best idea. Part two was definitely not as icky, so I've been able to keep sandwich down.
My favorite part so far is your reaction to the admittance dude being all flippant about the bloody floor. Mostly because I had the same reaction! This is gold; keep it comin'.
Ok. I'm never giving birth. This little girl inside of me? She's out of luck. She's staying in there forever. I just decided.
Great. Look at it this way - won't it be great when you have your labor story to tell? And you'll probably be all, "Liza, you wuss! It was so easy and wonderful! I'm going to have nine babies!"
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Yeah, except that whole having nine babies part...