Happy after the miracle drug!
Shortly before losing control, attempting to breathe.
On the birthing ball. I was thrilled.
Ryan asked me to smile.
I honestly thought I was giving him a "real smile."
As you can see, it is halfhearted.
In the elevator on the way to Labor and Delivery.
One of my last photos pregnant!
Chapter 1: 8.25.2009
Author's Note:
If you are uninterested in my labor and delivery story, please skip to "Chapter 2: A Star is Born" If you chose to continue, you have been warned.
Tuesday, August 25th, is the day our lives changed. Don't worry, unlike so many infamous days that linger in history, this date will be remembered with great joy. It is joyous for multiple reasons, the obvious being that our daughter was born and (the often forgotten) that I am no longer pregnant...or in hideous pain.
The day began at about 6 a.m. with a lovely send off from my parents as Ryan and I headed for "induction junction" at Methodist Hospital (MH). After picking up a quick breakfast burrito (coaching food) for Ryan, we arrived at MH. We checked in and moved in to our birthing suite, which consisted of a lovely view of Omaha, a wicked birthing bed, private bath and flat screen. Since I am so naive, I pictured myself enjoying these amenities. Ha! The room was enjoyed for about an hour...
From about 7 a.m. to 8 a.m., the nurse helped us get settled in. Urber-flattering hospital gown: CHECK. An IV, which took multiple attempts: CHECK. Fetal heartbeat and contraction monitor: CHECK. Brief medical history: CHECK. Wicked new jewelry (aka hospital bracelets): CHECK.
At 8 a.m., my doctor arrived. She checked my progress (I had dilated over the weekend from 0 cm to 2 cm): almost 3 cm. She then broke my water, which really feels like you are wetting yourself for about 10 minutes. I sat in a bed "wetting" myself uncontrollably and sitting in a pool of my own fuilds. Sickness! Once the flood subsided, the nurse provided me with a HUGE sanitary pad. It was probably equivalent to 10 overnight pads. Since no traditional underwear could carry such a load, the hospital is kind enough to provide disposable underwear. The nurse makes you believe the knickers are "one size fits all," but upon closer examination, my pairs were size XL. If I wore XL, what in heavens are others wearing... Think about it.
With my labor outfit complete, the doctor wished me luck and left. The nurse cranked up the pitocin and monitored the Baby for a few minutes. Baby was handling the induction well, so off Coach and I went on a walk. Within a few minutes, I began to feel a slight discomfort similar to mild menstrual cycle cramps. Coach Ryan and I walked along the floor, chatting about the exciting day ahead. As we passed the family lounge, we overheard a proud poppa telling another visitor about his new baby boy. The father explained to his eager listener that his new son was his seventh child. At home he had 3 other boys and 3 girls. The listener asked for the children's ages. The father listed the boys first, then the girls.
He said, "And my girls are 14, 10 and 10."
The listener asked, "Oh, twins?"
The father said, "No, they were just born in the same year."
With that statement, my labor pains started. Okay, not really, but I promptly looked at Ryan, wide eyed. They must be totally looney!
After a few more laps and more discussion about the crazy 10 year-old non-twins, the labor pains started to increase. I had to take breaks while walking, bracing myself along the wall. My legs began to feel weak. Talking became difficult, taking too much energy to bother. I decided I was too tired to walk. I went back to the room and sat on a labor ball. Though it was nice to sit, it was also hard to focus on keeping myself upright. Within a few minutes, I was over the ball. Not wanting to lay down, I sat on the rocking chair. With each contraction, I would rock furiously back and forth, keeping my eyes shut, trying to concentrate on my rhythmic breathing and forget about my intense hunger. Ryan, being a great coach, rubbed my legs. He stayed pretty quiet, noticing that I (the ultimate talker) was silent. I only mustered a word when asked to rate my level of discomfort.
Much of the morning passed in that rocking chair, in silence except for my deep and heavy breathing. Both the nurse and Ryan encouraged me to move, to walk, to do anything but sit. I tried, but didn't. I tried the birthing ball again...blah. I tried the bed...blah. As the lunch hour came, the nurse suggested the whirlpool tub. We walked down the hall, to a little room with a chair and a tub. There I stayed for over an hour, still in silence with the nurse sitting in her little chair next to me. Ryan used this time to re-fuel at Amigos! This would be one of the only times in my life I would rather be at Amigos...
When Ryan returned, he and the nurse helped me back to the room. I laid on my side, still trying to remain focused. The pain was so intense. It was indescribable and far beyond cramps. The contractions grew closer and closer. The monitored showed each contraction across the screen, each wave growing larger and larger. The more time passed, the harder it was to breathe and focus. It was about 4 p.m. when I lost control. Breathing, regardless of pattern, was ridiculous and not at all helpful. I wanted to scream. I wanted to be done. Ryan tried encouraging me, telling me to stay positive. I told him that I positively wanted an epidural. As rehearsed at home, he asked me to wait until 6 p.m. before making that decision. Hmmm. Nope. Decision was pretty much made, but I decided to wait until 5 p.m. before making it official. I discussed my options one final time with the nurse. She was increadibly supportive, suggesting she check my dialtion progress before I decided. "Deal!" I told myself. "If I have dilated 7 more centimeters, then I will keep going without drugs." Well, I was still at a 6 cm. SIX!! Thus, decision was made.
Within about 30 minutes, an anesthesiologist came up to drug me. Though the pain I was experiencing was horrible, I was terrified of a needle being inserted into my back. Good news: didn't feel a thing. Apparently, my body blocked out all other pain concentrating solely on contractions. The whole procedure took maybe 10 or 15 minutes. Within a few more minutes, I began to feel relief. With each passing minute, I lost more and more feeling. The nurse hooked me up with some sweet compression socks to prevent blood cots. A half hour later, I was passed out and pain free!
At around 7 p.m., the nurse returned to check on my progress since getting the miracle drug. In the incredible hour since changing course, I had dilated from a measly 6 cm to 10 cm! "You're ready to push," the nurse says. I was elated! "You better call Ryan to get back, I am going to get the room set up," the nurse concludes and she calls the doctor. Just as I am grabbing the phone, Ryan walks in (coaches have great timing) and hears the great news. It is go time.
Push. Push. Push. Break. Push. Push. Push. Break. Thus was the next hour and half, trying with all my numbed might to get the baby's head passed my pelvic bone. Once she did, the doctor was ready to deliver. Some more pushing (and an episiotomy later), and a star was born.
