Give me the drugs!
Our bundle of joy was due March 6th. I had that whole gut feeling, maternal instinct vibe that said baby would be early. So I thought it was going to happen on Feb 27th. And then I changed it to Feb 29th - a leap year baby!. And then I just hoped it wasn't on March 1st. And after that I stopped counting. I was too fat and getting too miserable to be optimistic for an early arrival. I settled with expecting the baby to be really late. And I wasn't entirely disappointed by that.
Once you're 4 weeks out your doctor visits happen weekly and they can do what they call a 'cervical sweep'. If you're clever you can figure out that they will stick their fingers in there and make a sweeping motion inside your cervix. This is very uncomfortable. By far the most painful thing (up to that point anyway) and its purpose is to loosen the cervix enough that it could make your water break. Except for me and this stubborn child, it didn't work. I did it 4 times, each weekly visit, and by the last visit on week 40, the doctor changes the tune and starts explaining what happens now that precious child is overdue. She uses her magic calculating skills and tells me that on Friday March 11th I'll meet with her again to discuss inducing me the following Monday. I grumble a bit at the thought of having to wait that much longer, and that I don't want to be induced. But nothing I can do, off I go, Googling how I can help get this baby out. Things I considered: jumping up and down on the stairs (figured I'd likely fall over, I was front heavy); Castor Oil (after reading about the taste of this, and that it doesn't often work I thought no); Sex (nope. no way. don't touch me); Drinking a glass of wine (YES! But I didn't have any in the house...crap). What I actually did: nothing. I laid on the couch, pouting.
Tuesday March 8th. Doomsday -- uhhh I mean, YAY! Shit is going down! It was late in the afternoon and I was comfy cozy on my couch watching Ellen, waiting for Mike to get home. It's around 4 o'clock and I start feeling...not right. A few BH contractions, but they are different this time. I can't explain how exactly...deeper maybe? Pains that have a purpose, and are lasting way longer than the few seconds I've been used to. I sit up slowly and look at the dog. He opens an eye and looks at me, and licks his pecker. Closes said eye. Well fuck, he's not gonna be any help. Oh god, here's another one! These are NOT braxton-hicks. Nope. NOPE. OH MY GOD THIS IS THE REAL THING! I'm starting early labour! We've spent the last 6 weeks in Tuesday night birth classes so we are prepared!* I know these terms "early labour", "active labour" and the golden rule of 5-1-1. When contractions are 5 minutes apart, lasting about 1 minute for 1 full hour it is time to head to the hospital.
*Prepared: No. No I wasn't. You never are. Even if you have more than one kid, it's always different. My hospital bag needed last minute things added, we didn't own a rocking chair... you're never prepared.
As is me, I didn't text him to tell him what was going on, I just waited until he walked in the door. Mike got home about 40 minutes after this all started so I filled him in on my afternoon and how far apart my contractions were. I was approaching every 6 minutes around 430 and we waited until 5pm timing them. I wasn't getting any closer so I bundled myself up and we took the dog for a walk. We knew walking helps speed things along so off we went. Once we were outside I could only go two minutes before another would start. I'd buckle over at the waist and try to do some deep breathing. The dog was mad, he thought we were going for a walk, not a start-stop-start-stop-mom-yelling-and-grunting journey. Sorry pooch. I made it around the block twice, wanting to stay close to home and by the time we got back in the house I was solidly contracting every two minutes, lasting about 60 seconds. If you've had a kid you're probably thinking "get the F to the hospital!!" But as soon as I sat down to catch my breath they slowed right back down again. I dropped to every 6 minutes again and they stayed like this until I tried to go to bed and get some sleep. The hell was I thinking?? I figured I could lay down, and just see how it goes, and if I get worse then off we go. Around 11pm I got up to go to the bathroom and Mike was reading (again) on when to go to the hospital. Even though you think you have a handle on the process, once it starts happening you kind of lose your mind. From the bedroom I hear "you should be okay to stay at home for a bit. The next thing that we see that would take us to the hospital is blood." I stand up, wipe, and say to him: "get in the car".
Hospital Bag- check
Call dog sitter to pick him up- check
Yell at the cats to be good- check
I hobbled myself into the maternity ward full of fear and anticipation. I checked in at triage and they got me in a gown and into a dark room. I almost felt silly at this point because my contractions still were not close together so I was sure they were going to send me home. And they sure did. I was there from 11:36 until 12:20 and in that time they hooked me up, monitored my contractions (which my dr said were going smoothly) and checked if I was dilated. I was barley a centimeter, no where near where I need to be to admit me. So they gave me a shot of Gravol/Morphine to help me sleep through the night at home. I had instructions to come back first thing in the morning for a top up shot of drugs if my contractions had not sped up. I don't remember leaving the hospital, or getting home and into bed, and I only vaguely remember getting up in the morning and getting ready. We were up around eight and Mike made me eat breakfast. One of the horror stories you hear is women being in labour for two days and only eating ice chips. He knows I get Hunty after just 8 hours without food, he's a smart man for feeding me that morning! I knew the shot I had at midnight was worn off, for the pain anyway, but I still felt fairly stoned. Back at the hospital that morning we both expected me just to get a needle in the butt and be sent back on my way. And here I got really lucky. At 9:30 that morning the triage rooms were full, and so were all the L&D rooms. As we spoke to the triage nurse, there was a new family leaving with baby and in less than 5 minutes they had her room flipped and ready for me. Now, I was only supposed to be getting a needle but after reading my chart (or seeing my stress/pain/nervousness) she said "ehh, I'll just go ahead and admit you to this room, we'll keep you here to monitor you instead of sending you home". Okay, works for me, let's get this baby out!!!
At this point we made the phone calls to all of the family members letting them know that I'd been admitted but there was no rush at all to come visit. Honestly I wanted some alone time with Mike before all of the craziness began. I was hooked up to all the machines, and had a steady stream of doctors and nurses in and out of my room, but the whole morning was a blur. My butt needle was keeping a bit of the pain way, but I was high as a kite. I remember having to ask really silly questions, or asking the same question a few times before I could understand the answer. Mike was spending his time standing beside me letting me squeeze his hand, checking the monitors and paperwork print outs to see if he could figure them out, and playing on his phone while I slept.
Delivering at South Health Campus was amazing. The staff there are great, and the facilities are even better. Each delivery room is private, with a private bath, and a sleeping nook for your "helper". (But to be fair, Mike said it was the least comfortable bed he's ever slept on and I never laid down on it, so I probably think it's better than he does). I was directly across from the nurses station so when we needed someone, we just stuck our head out the door. They have room service for your whole length of stay, with a decent selection of food, and it arrives quickly. Down the hall is a self serve kitchen with great views and a big sitting area if you need a change of scenery. Side note: hospital orange juice is the freaking best. I still crave it.
My mom arrived first (of course:)) and that's when things really started to kick up a notch. My contractions were coming harder and faster and the morphine was wearing off. I had told the nurses earlier in the morning that I do want the epidural, but let me see how I handle them for a little bit. I didn't want to just jump right into the drugs, and there was a tiny part of me that thought maybe I'd be tough enough to do it without. Ha. HAHA. NOPE. Give me the drugs!!!
There came a point mid morning where I had had enough of the pain. It's a deep pain, relentless, and even though the contraction comes and goes, when you're not having one you're just coming down from the previous one and then anticipating the pain of the next one. We summoned the anesthesiologist and they arranged to get her as soon as they could, which was shortly after lunch. Now, all my life people (women) have told stories about how big this needle is. 'It's the biggest needle I've ever seen!' 'Make sure you don't move or you'll be paralyzed' 'I'll never get one, that needle is so big it leaves a hole in your back'. When we met our doctor, Dr. Jen she called herself, she made everything so relaxed that I wasn't afraid. (Not that I was anyway, I was getting these drugs no matter how big the needle was!). She was a fast talking, funny lady that I felt comfortable with immediately. She had everything prepared and started giving us the instructions. I don't know about all these other women, but I never even saw my needle. Mike did, and he said it was big yes, but he agrees the panic over the size of it is unnecessary. (I've since googled it and also do not see the hype). I was sat on the bed facing Mike, who was sitting on a chair. I was told to lean on him and don't move. That was the part that I was most worried about, not flinching, or not moving. I feared that she'd touch me with the needle point and I'd jump. Turns out, she numbs the skin so I didn't feel a thing. I get needles on a weekly basis and those hurt more than this one did. And once she attached my tubes to the fluids I was in business! She gave me my clicky button pusher tool and said when you feel pain go to town on this button. (Turns out, they measure the doses anyway so you can't overdo it. Darn.) Once you're numb they do the ice cube test. In theory you should have no feeling from the waist down, so they run ice cubes from your huge tummy down to your toes and you need to tell them if you can feel it. I was numb right away so they left me be. I spent a good part of the afternoon drowsy and numb, talking to mom and Mike, and waiting. Not quite patiently, but waiting nonetheless.
Hours later I'm starting to have feeling again in my belly and legs which has Dr Jen paged. I'm out of drugs. Ohmygod.
This is the part of the night where shit speeds up and I start dilating. There was a time when a doctor came in and said that I was still 7cm and so I can get a top of of my epidural. Sweet Betty. I wouldn't have lasted if I had to go it au natural. As we wait I watch the black clock with the red numbers. Minutes feel like hours, hours like days. Finally she arrives and at this point I'm sure I'm delirious, because I hardly remember talking to her. I must have done a good enough job though because my top up of drugs came right around 1030pm. There's a lot that I can't remember about that night, and the next 45 minutes is a part of that. I recall looking at those glowing red digits at 23:10 and having a gut feeling that this is it.
I honestly don't know what passed the next ten minutes or so, but I tell you, there were doctors and nurses in that room faster than on the set of E.R. I remember looking down through my knees and seeing two doctors, looking to my right and seeing three nurses; to my left were two more nurses and I think there was one or two at the other side fixing up the bassinet. Now I can be a fairly dramatic person but I'm sure that 7 or 8 medical staff is a bit much. Not in my case apparently. Because my epidural was just kicking in, I was going to go into shock (it didn't have time to process through me before it became effective). I dilated 3cm in 10 minutes. Shit is moving and its moving real fucking fast.
23:25 Sweat is forming on my already sweaty brow and I reach out my right hand for Mike.
23:26 He's holding my right leg in a position that is not exactly fun for him, considering he didn't really want to see what was happening. I am looking past my belly at the shoulder of the woman I'm about to trust.
23:27 PUSH!! They are yelling at me. I AM!! I yell back. PUSH LIKE YOU'RE POOPING!! I push. I DON'T POOP LIKE THAT!! I yell at them when I realize baby isn't moving.
23:29 OH OKAY I GET IT NOW!! I yell at them, now that I've figured it out.
23:31 ONE MORE PUSH!!! I just want them to stop yelling. RRHGHHHRRGFFFHHHTHG
23:33 T: Well??
23:33 M: She's perfect.
Once you're 4 weeks out your doctor visits happen weekly and they can do what they call a 'cervical sweep'. If you're clever you can figure out that they will stick their fingers in there and make a sweeping motion inside your cervix. This is very uncomfortable. By far the most painful thing (up to that point anyway) and its purpose is to loosen the cervix enough that it could make your water break. Except for me and this stubborn child, it didn't work. I did it 4 times, each weekly visit, and by the last visit on week 40, the doctor changes the tune and starts explaining what happens now that precious child is overdue. She uses her magic calculating skills and tells me that on Friday March 11th I'll meet with her again to discuss inducing me the following Monday. I grumble a bit at the thought of having to wait that much longer, and that I don't want to be induced. But nothing I can do, off I go, Googling how I can help get this baby out. Things I considered: jumping up and down on the stairs (figured I'd likely fall over, I was front heavy); Castor Oil (after reading about the taste of this, and that it doesn't often work I thought no); Sex (nope. no way. don't touch me); Drinking a glass of wine (YES! But I didn't have any in the house...crap). What I actually did: nothing. I laid on the couch, pouting.
Tuesday March 8th. Doomsday -- uhhh I mean, YAY! Shit is going down! It was late in the afternoon and I was comfy cozy on my couch watching Ellen, waiting for Mike to get home. It's around 4 o'clock and I start feeling...not right. A few BH contractions, but they are different this time. I can't explain how exactly...deeper maybe? Pains that have a purpose, and are lasting way longer than the few seconds I've been used to. I sit up slowly and look at the dog. He opens an eye and looks at me, and licks his pecker. Closes said eye. Well fuck, he's not gonna be any help. Oh god, here's another one! These are NOT braxton-hicks. Nope. NOPE. OH MY GOD THIS IS THE REAL THING! I'm starting early labour! We've spent the last 6 weeks in Tuesday night birth classes so we are prepared!* I know these terms "early labour", "active labour" and the golden rule of 5-1-1. When contractions are 5 minutes apart, lasting about 1 minute for 1 full hour it is time to head to the hospital.
*Prepared: No. No I wasn't. You never are. Even if you have more than one kid, it's always different. My hospital bag needed last minute things added, we didn't own a rocking chair... you're never prepared.
As is me, I didn't text him to tell him what was going on, I just waited until he walked in the door. Mike got home about 40 minutes after this all started so I filled him in on my afternoon and how far apart my contractions were. I was approaching every 6 minutes around 430 and we waited until 5pm timing them. I wasn't getting any closer so I bundled myself up and we took the dog for a walk. We knew walking helps speed things along so off we went. Once we were outside I could only go two minutes before another would start. I'd buckle over at the waist and try to do some deep breathing. The dog was mad, he thought we were going for a walk, not a start-stop-start-stop-mom-yelling-and-grunting journey. Sorry pooch. I made it around the block twice, wanting to stay close to home and by the time we got back in the house I was solidly contracting every two minutes, lasting about 60 seconds. If you've had a kid you're probably thinking "get the F to the hospital!!" But as soon as I sat down to catch my breath they slowed right back down again. I dropped to every 6 minutes again and they stayed like this until I tried to go to bed and get some sleep. The hell was I thinking?? I figured I could lay down, and just see how it goes, and if I get worse then off we go. Around 11pm I got up to go to the bathroom and Mike was reading (again) on when to go to the hospital. Even though you think you have a handle on the process, once it starts happening you kind of lose your mind. From the bedroom I hear "you should be okay to stay at home for a bit. The next thing that we see that would take us to the hospital is blood." I stand up, wipe, and say to him: "get in the car".
Hospital Bag- check
Call dog sitter to pick him up- check
Yell at the cats to be good- check
I hobbled myself into the maternity ward full of fear and anticipation. I checked in at triage and they got me in a gown and into a dark room. I almost felt silly at this point because my contractions still were not close together so I was sure they were going to send me home. And they sure did. I was there from 11:36 until 12:20 and in that time they hooked me up, monitored my contractions (which my dr said were going smoothly) and checked if I was dilated. I was barley a centimeter, no where near where I need to be to admit me. So they gave me a shot of Gravol/Morphine to help me sleep through the night at home. I had instructions to come back first thing in the morning for a top up shot of drugs if my contractions had not sped up. I don't remember leaving the hospital, or getting home and into bed, and I only vaguely remember getting up in the morning and getting ready. We were up around eight and Mike made me eat breakfast. One of the horror stories you hear is women being in labour for two days and only eating ice chips. He knows I get Hunty after just 8 hours without food, he's a smart man for feeding me that morning! I knew the shot I had at midnight was worn off, for the pain anyway, but I still felt fairly stoned. Back at the hospital that morning we both expected me just to get a needle in the butt and be sent back on my way. And here I got really lucky. At 9:30 that morning the triage rooms were full, and so were all the L&D rooms. As we spoke to the triage nurse, there was a new family leaving with baby and in less than 5 minutes they had her room flipped and ready for me. Now, I was only supposed to be getting a needle but after reading my chart (or seeing my stress/pain/nervousness) she said "ehh, I'll just go ahead and admit you to this room, we'll keep you here to monitor you instead of sending you home". Okay, works for me, let's get this baby out!!!
At this point we made the phone calls to all of the family members letting them know that I'd been admitted but there was no rush at all to come visit. Honestly I wanted some alone time with Mike before all of the craziness began. I was hooked up to all the machines, and had a steady stream of doctors and nurses in and out of my room, but the whole morning was a blur. My butt needle was keeping a bit of the pain way, but I was high as a kite. I remember having to ask really silly questions, or asking the same question a few times before I could understand the answer. Mike was spending his time standing beside me letting me squeeze his hand, checking the monitors and paperwork print outs to see if he could figure them out, and playing on his phone while I slept.
Delivering at South Health Campus was amazing. The staff there are great, and the facilities are even better. Each delivery room is private, with a private bath, and a sleeping nook for your "helper". (But to be fair, Mike said it was the least comfortable bed he's ever slept on and I never laid down on it, so I probably think it's better than he does). I was directly across from the nurses station so when we needed someone, we just stuck our head out the door. They have room service for your whole length of stay, with a decent selection of food, and it arrives quickly. Down the hall is a self serve kitchen with great views and a big sitting area if you need a change of scenery. Side note: hospital orange juice is the freaking best. I still crave it.
My mom arrived first (of course:)) and that's when things really started to kick up a notch. My contractions were coming harder and faster and the morphine was wearing off. I had told the nurses earlier in the morning that I do want the epidural, but let me see how I handle them for a little bit. I didn't want to just jump right into the drugs, and there was a tiny part of me that thought maybe I'd be tough enough to do it without. Ha. HAHA. NOPE. Give me the drugs!!!
There came a point mid morning where I had had enough of the pain. It's a deep pain, relentless, and even though the contraction comes and goes, when you're not having one you're just coming down from the previous one and then anticipating the pain of the next one. We summoned the anesthesiologist and they arranged to get her as soon as they could, which was shortly after lunch. Now, all my life people (women) have told stories about how big this needle is. 'It's the biggest needle I've ever seen!' 'Make sure you don't move or you'll be paralyzed' 'I'll never get one, that needle is so big it leaves a hole in your back'. When we met our doctor, Dr. Jen she called herself, she made everything so relaxed that I wasn't afraid. (Not that I was anyway, I was getting these drugs no matter how big the needle was!). She was a fast talking, funny lady that I felt comfortable with immediately. She had everything prepared and started giving us the instructions. I don't know about all these other women, but I never even saw my needle. Mike did, and he said it was big yes, but he agrees the panic over the size of it is unnecessary. (I've since googled it and also do not see the hype). I was sat on the bed facing Mike, who was sitting on a chair. I was told to lean on him and don't move. That was the part that I was most worried about, not flinching, or not moving. I feared that she'd touch me with the needle point and I'd jump. Turns out, she numbs the skin so I didn't feel a thing. I get needles on a weekly basis and those hurt more than this one did. And once she attached my tubes to the fluids I was in business! She gave me my clicky button pusher tool and said when you feel pain go to town on this button. (Turns out, they measure the doses anyway so you can't overdo it. Darn.) Once you're numb they do the ice cube test. In theory you should have no feeling from the waist down, so they run ice cubes from your huge tummy down to your toes and you need to tell them if you can feel it. I was numb right away so they left me be. I spent a good part of the afternoon drowsy and numb, talking to mom and Mike, and waiting. Not quite patiently, but waiting nonetheless.
Hours later I'm starting to have feeling again in my belly and legs which has Dr Jen paged. I'm out of drugs. Ohmygod.
This is the part of the night where shit speeds up and I start dilating. There was a time when a doctor came in and said that I was still 7cm and so I can get a top of of my epidural. Sweet Betty. I wouldn't have lasted if I had to go it au natural. As we wait I watch the black clock with the red numbers. Minutes feel like hours, hours like days. Finally she arrives and at this point I'm sure I'm delirious, because I hardly remember talking to her. I must have done a good enough job though because my top up of drugs came right around 1030pm. There's a lot that I can't remember about that night, and the next 45 minutes is a part of that. I recall looking at those glowing red digits at 23:10 and having a gut feeling that this is it.
I honestly don't know what passed the next ten minutes or so, but I tell you, there were doctors and nurses in that room faster than on the set of E.R. I remember looking down through my knees and seeing two doctors, looking to my right and seeing three nurses; to my left were two more nurses and I think there was one or two at the other side fixing up the bassinet. Now I can be a fairly dramatic person but I'm sure that 7 or 8 medical staff is a bit much. Not in my case apparently. Because my epidural was just kicking in, I was going to go into shock (it didn't have time to process through me before it became effective). I dilated 3cm in 10 minutes. Shit is moving and its moving real fucking fast.
23:25 Sweat is forming on my already sweaty brow and I reach out my right hand for Mike.
23:26 He's holding my right leg in a position that is not exactly fun for him, considering he didn't really want to see what was happening. I am looking past my belly at the shoulder of the woman I'm about to trust.
23:27 PUSH!! They are yelling at me. I AM!! I yell back. PUSH LIKE YOU'RE POOPING!! I push. I DON'T POOP LIKE THAT!! I yell at them when I realize baby isn't moving.
23:29 OH OKAY I GET IT NOW!! I yell at them, now that I've figured it out.
23:31 ONE MORE PUSH!!! I just want them to stop yelling. RRHGHHHRRGFFFHHHTHG
23:33 T: Well??
23:33 M: She's perfect.
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