I was getting impatient. I was prepared for 40 weeks of pregnancy, but each additional day felt like an eternity. And so when the doctor said we could induce at any time, we decided that our desire to meet our daughter outweighed our desire for spontaneous labor. On Monday, July 5th, three days past our due date, we chose to evict our little one.
We checked into the hospital at noon, after going home to grab my hospital bag and a snack. I was excited, nervous, still wondering if we had made the right decision, to induce. The doctor had said I was no longer at an increased risk for c-section, and even if we had given baby another week, there was no guarantee that she would come on her own. And I was growing weary of the
false alarms. But were we rushing her? Was I being selfish? I posed these questions to John, but he reminded me, it was really too late. We had made our decision, we were in the room where our daughter would enter the world, and I was already wearing my sexy hospital gown. We were going to have a baby.
Things went quickly, at first. By 12:40 pm, I was receiving Pitocin though an IV drip. Then around 1 o'clock, a doctor came in to break my water. She used what looked like a long crochet hook to tear the bag of amniotic fluid. I felt quite a bit of pressure, some slight discomfort, and then a pop and release, warm fluid flooding the bed. A LOT of warm fluid. And after the initial gush, I continued to leak, and leak, and leak. That was unpleasant, as was peeing in a bed pan. Apparently you cannot get up to use the bathroom after they break your water. Now I know.
My contractions were not yet strong or consistent, so the doctor upped the Pitocin after breaking my water. And then we waited. I watched
Bravo on TV and John read. I wasn't allowed to eat or drink, so I munched on ice in an effort to quench my thirst. Somewhere around 2 o'clock, I started experiencing what felt like really bad period cramps. Really,
really, REALLY bad period cramps. After about three of those, I was paging the nurse, begging for drugs. Yes, I'm a wimp. And any woman who has endured a natural childbirth is my hero. Perhaps it would have been different if we hadn't induced, or if I'd prepared for the pain, but I was glad to have the epidural. My lower body felt immediately numb, and although I could feel pressure, feel my uterine muscle tightening with each contraction, I no longer felt any pain or discomfort. Nor could I feel much as the nurse examined me, and inserted a catheter (no more bed pan!). It was like magic.
My parents arrived while I was getting the epidural. No one was allowed in the room at the time, but once the anesthesiologist had done her job and the drugs were flowing, we all continued waiting together. I was just 2-3 cm, 80%, -2. We had a way to go.
The next few hours passed slowly. I was tired, but I could not sleep, so I twittered and posted updates to Facebook. I ate a few cherry popsicles since I couldn't eat anything else. By 6:30 pm, I was dilated 4 cm and 90% effaced. Some progress, finally! But my contractions were still inconsistent, so we upped the Pitocin again, and switched to an internal monitor for more accurate results. We had to increase the Pitocin once or twice more before the night was over. I could barely feel them, but John watched my contractions on the monitor, commenting on their duration and force, "That one was close to 70! One of your best contractions yet!"
By 10:30 pm, I was at 7 cm, 90%, -1. My teeth were chattering like it was the middle of winter in Minnesota, but I didn't actually feel cold. The nurse assured me this was normal. I did feel some sharp pain in my lower abdomen, right under the external monitor that was measuring baby's heart rate. I told the nurse, and someone came in to adjust my epidural. They injected something into my IV, and within minutes I could no longer feel the pain, or my legs. Whereas before I could still wiggle my toes, I could no longer feel or move anything below my waist. I'd have preferred to retain some feeling, but I was glad to be pain-free.
As we neared midnight, I was wearing out, and absolutely dying of thirst. All I wanted was a tall glass of ice water. Or a slice of watermelon. Watermelon sounded DELICIOUS. I tried chewing on ice, but I felt sick. I threw up those cherry popsicles shortly thereafter. Somehow, the nurse could tell from the monitor that I had vomited, and she came in to check me. She said many women throw up right before it's time to push. I was 9.75 cm dilated, 100% effaced, +1 station. Almost there.
By 1 am, it was time to push. My doctor was already at the hospital, delivering another baby via cesarean. The nurse prepped me while my doctor was finishing up. She explained that I would push for a count of 10, three times, with each contraction. My dad had left the room, but my mom and John would hold each leg back while I pushed. We brought in a mirror so that we could watch, if we felt so inclined. And then, I started pushing.
I pushed. And pushed. And pushed. For two hours, I pushed. I felt like my eyes would pop out of my head, or that my brain would explode, I pushed so hard. But I was also exhausted. I could barely open my eyes, and I was practically falling asleep between contractions. It was 3 am, and all of my pushing had done nothing. Baby was still lodged in the birth canal, and it felt like she would never come out. It was discouraging. I would push hard, and they'd all be cheering for me, like this was it. But then the contraction would pass, I'd look in the mirror, and see no sign of baby. My doctor told me that I could push another hour, and then we would have to either try suction and forceps, or we'd have to take baby via c-section. I did not want to have a c-section, not after two hours of pushing and the trauma already incurred down there, so I said I was willing to try suction and forceps when necessary. My mom could see how tired I was, and suggested that we go ahead and try the tools. I immediately acquiesced, knowing I couldn't go on much longer.
Suddenly there were three extra nurses in the room. We tried suction first. My doctor tried twice, I think, but could not get a good suction on baby's head. So we moved on to forceps. John said later that it was hard to watch, my doctor using what looked like metal salad tongs to pull on our baby's head with all her might. But it worked. Baby's head came out, and then we stopped. The cord was wrapped around her neck twice. My doctor worked fast, cutting the cord and then pulling baby out the rest of the way.
I remember the nurse telling me to look at the mirror, watching my stomach deflate, feeling her leave my body, and falling back on the bed, sobbing and shaking from a mixture of relief and exhaustion, and asking why my baby wasn't crying. My doctor said baby had been stunned by the birth, because we'd had to stop to cut the cord, but that she'd be fine. Through all of the bodies and equipment, I could see the nurses putting a tube down her throat. I closed my eyes and waited, and after a few long minutes, I heard her piercing screams. They told me that the forceps had scratched her cheek, but that she was healthy and beautiful. They finally placed her in my arms and I held tightly to my darling baby girl.
My girl. My daughter. My Fable.
