Thursday
Jun172010
The Labor Story: Out the Window, Part III
Thursday, June 17, 2010 at 10:19AM
The Labor Story: Out the Window, Part I
The Labor Story: Out the Window, Part II
My concept of time while in labor was the strangest thing. Everything seemed to take forever – every contraction, the time at home, the time in the car, the time checking in to the hospital. But, at the same time, it seemed to be going very quickly. Perhaps it was because part of my internal dialogue was the following mantra: Eventually, it’ll be over. Eventually, it’ll be over. Sometimes that thought was just a distant puff of fog in the distance and other times it was as loud as a bullhorn next to your ear.
After what seemed like forever, but not quite forever, in came the anesthesiologist. I had heard so many horror stories of what can happen during the administering of an epidural, not to mention the possible effects of an epidural, but I was more than willing to risk every single one of them at this point.
I was told I had to sit up, swing my legs over the side of the bed and curl forward. Oh, and stay as still as possible. Yeah, good luck with that. My body didn’t want to do any of these requirements, but my brain was like, “DO IT! NOW!”
My husband was great for this. He stood in front of me while I flopped my forehead onto his chest and he held my upper arms. I asked him to squeeze my arms tightly. It seemed to help a little with the contractions – providing pressure somewhere other than my lower abs and just feeling the closeness of him. As they had most of the time thus far, my eyes remained shut for everything that didn’t require me looking.
I didn’t give a crap about a stick or a pinch or a cold feeling in my back. My only thought was that relief was near and getting nearer by the second. And then I heard my drug dealer say this in his Indian accent: Oh, there’s blood in the catheter. We have to wait. We may have to redo.
WHAT?
Do not do this to me. This cannot be happening. I do not have it in me to wait any longer or to sit still while we try this again.
In a few moments, I almost cried when I heard the words, “Ok, it’s gone. We’re good.”
The nurses helped me lie back and they reclined the back of the bed slightly to help the drugs go where they needed. When asked if I felt it more in one leg, I replied that I certainly did – in my left. So they rolled me over on my right side to help the sweet numbing substance move more toward the right.
It was about 11:40am.
I didn’t care about the difference in my legs. All I knew was that I. COULD. BREATHE. A deep breath. A pain-free breath. For the first time in almost four hours. Oh, God, it felt good.
There were three hospital bracelets on my wrist, an IV in my hand (blocking the pink hair band I had thrown on my wrist that morning), an epidural in my back, a urinary catheter between my legs, a thick belt around my middle monitoring my baby’s heartbeat, blood pouring out of me and I DIDN’T GIVE A CRAP. About any of it.
Now, I have had five surgeries in the past 10 years, four of them in the past four years. My point is that, by now, I’m not afraid of hospitals, IVs, tubes, and machines that go BEEEEP. In fact, I kind of feel safe with them. All my surgeries were successful (broken arm with screws in, got the screws out, took care of a hernia, stuff like that) so I have pretty good associations with hospitals. I know needles and other hospital things can freak people out, but not me.
So, there I was for a while. Drugged up and pain-free. My doula arrived. My first words to her were, “I got the drugs.” My parents came in and snapped a few luh-vely photos of me. At one point, Sailor’s heartbeat dropped a bit so, in an effort to see how many medical things we could attach to me, the nurses slapped an oxygen mask on me. I think her change in heartbeat was caused by my repositioning because when I rolled back where I was it went back up.
(I don't look so hot, but my HANDS look great! And the bear behind my head stayed there the whole time. He was given to me by my husband when we first started dating and I got rear ended.)
I texted my friends. I posted on my blog about how I was in the hospital in labor. I talked to my doula, my husband, my parents, the nurse. We laughed. I tried to nap a bit, but nurses kept coming in to check on me.
Somewhere around 12 or 12:30 my OB came to check me and said I was 7cm. Her guess was that I’d be pushing in about two hours.
My doula and my husband were watching my contraction monitor letting me know they were coming about every minute. All I could do was thank the Heavens that I was not being slammed by those waves anymore. My contractions dropped to about three minutes apart for a while, most likely caused by the epidural, but they went back up again shortly after.
Everything was awesome and good and wonderful.
Until about 2:45pm.
The Labor Story: Part IV
The Labor Story: Out the Window, Part II
My concept of time while in labor was the strangest thing. Everything seemed to take forever – every contraction, the time at home, the time in the car, the time checking in to the hospital. But, at the same time, it seemed to be going very quickly. Perhaps it was because part of my internal dialogue was the following mantra: Eventually, it’ll be over. Eventually, it’ll be over. Sometimes that thought was just a distant puff of fog in the distance and other times it was as loud as a bullhorn next to your ear.
After what seemed like forever, but not quite forever, in came the anesthesiologist. I had heard so many horror stories of what can happen during the administering of an epidural, not to mention the possible effects of an epidural, but I was more than willing to risk every single one of them at this point.
I was told I had to sit up, swing my legs over the side of the bed and curl forward. Oh, and stay as still as possible. Yeah, good luck with that. My body didn’t want to do any of these requirements, but my brain was like, “DO IT! NOW!”
My husband was great for this. He stood in front of me while I flopped my forehead onto his chest and he held my upper arms. I asked him to squeeze my arms tightly. It seemed to help a little with the contractions – providing pressure somewhere other than my lower abs and just feeling the closeness of him. As they had most of the time thus far, my eyes remained shut for everything that didn’t require me looking.
I didn’t give a crap about a stick or a pinch or a cold feeling in my back. My only thought was that relief was near and getting nearer by the second. And then I heard my drug dealer say this in his Indian accent: Oh, there’s blood in the catheter. We have to wait. We may have to redo.
WHAT?
Do not do this to me. This cannot be happening. I do not have it in me to wait any longer or to sit still while we try this again.
In a few moments, I almost cried when I heard the words, “Ok, it’s gone. We’re good.”
The nurses helped me lie back and they reclined the back of the bed slightly to help the drugs go where they needed. When asked if I felt it more in one leg, I replied that I certainly did – in my left. So they rolled me over on my right side to help the sweet numbing substance move more toward the right.
It was about 11:40am.
I didn’t care about the difference in my legs. All I knew was that I. COULD. BREATHE. A deep breath. A pain-free breath. For the first time in almost four hours. Oh, God, it felt good.
There were three hospital bracelets on my wrist, an IV in my hand (blocking the pink hair band I had thrown on my wrist that morning), an epidural in my back, a urinary catheter between my legs, a thick belt around my middle monitoring my baby’s heartbeat, blood pouring out of me and I DIDN’T GIVE A CRAP. About any of it.
Now, I have had five surgeries in the past 10 years, four of them in the past four years. My point is that, by now, I’m not afraid of hospitals, IVs, tubes, and machines that go BEEEEP. In fact, I kind of feel safe with them. All my surgeries were successful (broken arm with screws in, got the screws out, took care of a hernia, stuff like that) so I have pretty good associations with hospitals. I know needles and other hospital things can freak people out, but not me.
So, there I was for a while. Drugged up and pain-free. My doula arrived. My first words to her were, “I got the drugs.” My parents came in and snapped a few luh-vely photos of me. At one point, Sailor’s heartbeat dropped a bit so, in an effort to see how many medical things we could attach to me, the nurses slapped an oxygen mask on me. I think her change in heartbeat was caused by my repositioning because when I rolled back where I was it went back up.
(I don't look so hot, but my HANDS look great! And the bear behind my head stayed there the whole time. He was given to me by my husband when we first started dating and I got rear ended.)I texted my friends. I posted on my blog about how I was in the hospital in labor. I talked to my doula, my husband, my parents, the nurse. We laughed. I tried to nap a bit, but nurses kept coming in to check on me.
Somewhere around 12 or 12:30 my OB came to check me and said I was 7cm. Her guess was that I’d be pushing in about two hours.
My doula and my husband were watching my contraction monitor letting me know they were coming about every minute. All I could do was thank the Heavens that I was not being slammed by those waves anymore. My contractions dropped to about three minutes apart for a while, most likely caused by the epidural, but they went back up again shortly after.
Everything was awesome and good and wonderful.
Until about 2:45pm.
The Labor Story: Part IV
Copyright; 2011, Blahggy. All rights reserved.
Reader Comments (13)
Gah, what do you mean until 2:45?? Gah! Need next installment!!
I thought the epidural felt weird. It was so cold... and then having my legs go numb was so very strange. Of course I wasn't in extreme pain at the time, so I imagine that's the difference.
Dude. I've just spent the last hour catching up on like 6 months of your blog. Outstanding. Love the pre-babe pics with the heart and all. Can't wait to meet her!
Your writing is great!
MOAR
I know! I'm sorry! It's a little ridiculous how long it is. I could have done it all in like a 2,000 word post, but that's a bit much.
I totally googled "moar."
testing
That must have been quite the experience :-p
Even though I know that the end result is a beautiful baby girl, the suspense is killing me.
Oh you! What a great idea to keep us all coming back - the story in installments.
I'm very interested because I didn't have a typical birth. I don't feel pain with my contractions so my first child was born at home and with the last two the trick was to get to the hospital before the baby arrived.
I found your blog thru SITS. Now I'll have to come back for the rest.
[...] Posts « The Labor Story: Out the Window, Part III Do You Hear What I Hear? [...]
I can't WAIT to feel the effects of my epidural...
[...] The Labor Story: Part I The Labor Story: Part II The Labor Story: Part III [...]
My favorite part of this installment was the bit about being rear-ended when you first started dating your husband. ;-) Funny girl.
I already know the next part, so I'm extra excited now. I love this stuff!