The day started out like any other. It was a Tuesday. Another work day. We all got up, ready for work/school, and off we went.
Everything seemed "normal" - whatever normal is when you are more than 40 weeks pregnant. But soon I suspected that my water had broke. But not in that made-for-TV-movie way where you are standing in some very public place and all of a sudden you have a huge gush of water, prompting you to run immediately to the hospital. No, for me it was more of a slow leak. And if I had really been paying attention, I would have realized that it actually "broke" at about 2:30 that morning - when I had gotten up to use the bathroom, went back to bed, and immediately felt a "pop" and had to rush back to the bathroom. I figured I just hadn't emptied my bladder all the way since the baby was sitting right on it and the "pop" was just a shifting of things.
Anyway, after several trips (more than usual) to the bathroom that morning, it finally dawned on me that this was not a bladder issue. I called my
doula who suggested I use some pH paper to test the fluid. Of course, the pH paper she gave me was at home and I was at work. But I am married to a biologist. Damon has that kind of stuff laying around his lab. A few minutes later he brought some over and sure enough it was "positive." I was leaking amniotic fluid.
But none of this really got me excited or anything. We had that false alarm earlier, and while one's water breaking does point to labor starting "soon" I was going to wait until it was for real this time. So Damon and I walked over to the library at lunch to get him a new power cord for his laptop and I kept running to the bathroom. I ate some lunch and cleaned my desk. No big deal.
Then, strangely, my doctor's office called me. I mean, it was weird. Why were they calling
me? Did they know something? Turns out my doctor had a death in the family and they were calling to let me know that he would be out of town for the weekend. CRAP! I thought. My doctor can't leave...he
has to deliver this baby! So I casually mentioned to the nurse that I think my water had broke. She said I better come on over then. Maybe I'd have this baby before he left town...
Now that sounds fine, right? Water breaks = go to hospital... But it wasn't my plan. The plan was to labor at home as long as possible (i.e. until the baby is about ready to come) and then go in. It was all part of my "no interventions = no c-section" plan to
VBAC. I thought that as soon as I set foot in the hospital, I would go down some path to another c-section, so avoiding the hospital as long as possible was my first line of defense.
But people at work were getting antsy that I was still there and the "leak" was getting more progressive, so I figured it was time to go. We probably left around 3 or so and for some reason I told Damon to drive to the hospital - not home. I'm not sure why, but I just felt that I had to go there instead of home.
So we get there, we park, we check in. It was pretty anti-climactic. Again, not like in the movies where the heavily-laboring woman is carried in by her frantic husband and all the docs and nurses come flying out just in time. No, we just went to a room, I got changed, and WHAM!... contraction! OK! So
that's what a contraction feels like. Silly Laura for thinking anything before was a contraction. Then WHAM! ... another contraction. Hold on! It's only been like 4 or 5 minutes. Then WHAM! ... another one. I guess we're getting serious now, huh? So I called my
doula and told her to get on over a.s.a.p. Things were happening!
They moved me to a delivery room and my contractions were really
ramping up. I could breathe through them but they
freakin hurt. By the time my
doula arrived I was barely managing them, and they were every few minutes. Soon they checked me and I think I was already 5 cm.
The next several hours were hell. I moved about the delivery room trying to find some place/position that was tolerable. But contractions were coming every 2-3 minutes with some lasting nearly 2 minutes. Hardly a break. I started screaming through them as it was the only way I could handle the pain - the pain of something tearing me open from the inside. (Of course, that's actually what was happening, in a sense, as my cervix was opening at a very fast rate). I handled some contractions as best I could, others left me crying for it to stop. I felt that I couldn't handle it, that I wanted to actually enjoy the birth. But I was still set against the epidural.
Finally at one point I asked them to check where I was at. 7 cm. I could not fathom this going on any longer. While I did get to 7cm in only a few hours, I did not want to go even another minute like this. Damon and my
doula, who were instructed to not let me cave, kept encouraging me. But I was done. I yelled at the nurse to get me an epidural. Damon, still trying to help, kept saying I could do it. He tells me, although I don't remember, that I yelled at him to shut up.
So the nurse starts getting things ready for the epidural and, in between the raging contractions, I ask how long it will be. "15-20 minutes" was her reply. What the f#%*? I still had enough sense about me to do simple math and figured that would be 3-4 more contractions at least. No way! But
yes way. They had to get an IV going and get the anesthesiologist there. I muddled through the wait, screaming through the contractions. I'm sure it was quite the ridiculous scene.
Then the anesthesiologist came in, poked my back, and warm glory flowed through the lower part of my body. I finally relaxed enough to open my eyes and make sense of what was going on. Soon they checked me again and found that I was 9 cm. 9 cm! I made it almost all the way. A friend of mine told me that the worst part of labor is transition - where you feel like you are about to die. Looking back, I can say that I must have made it through transition...I can't imagine anything worse.
Now things were lightening up. The contractions continued to roll through but I was comfortable. But sure enough, just like I thought would happen if I got an epidural, progress slowed down quite considerably. I was stuck at 9 cm for several hours. I was almost there but just not quite. In fact I was 10cm on one side, but 9 on the other. There was talk of
pitocin. I just hoped I would finish dilating on my own as
pitocin was not an option!
Meanwhile, nurses were coming and going, shuffling paperwork, asking for forms to be signed. When they became aware that we did not want the eye ointment, the Hep B vaccine, or the vitamin K shot for the baby, it was like we were robbing a store. The nurses were confused, kept asking why, and I'm sure left wondering
what the hell? But we had our reasons. We didn't want the eye ointment because it's only necessary if the mother has gonorrhea or some other bacterial STD. Since I didn't it was necessary. Add to that the fact that
Kestian is allergic to many antibiotics and we did not want to expose our new son to any antibiotics during the first minutes of life should he also be allergic. As for the the Hep B vaccine, we knew he could get that at the pediatrician's office...we just didn't need to do it then. And as for the vitamin K shot...it's pretty standard to give it to all babies, and we did do it with the twins, but that's because they were preemies. With this baby being full term, it seemed again unnecessary. But apparently no one ever questions these procedures. Soon the hospital administrator was brought in, nurses were telling us that it was "state law" (HA! I'd like to see that!), and calls were made to the pediatrician on-call. Somewhere in the mix someone thought we were refusing the eye ointment because of some fear of autism.
WTF? So after countless discussions, mind you while I am still in labor, we signed some stupid form that they made sure to have me initial by the line that said by not doing this we are risking blindness in our baby. Finally, they left us alone. It's sad that a parent's informed decision is handled this way... but let's get back to the party...
OK, so eventually I got to a point where they thought it was safe to push. Until then, it had just been me, Damon, the
doula, and the labor nurse. Now, suddenly, everyone showed up. The doc arrived, plus the nurse for the baby, 2 more nurses, and who knows who else. They flipped on the lights and I now had a spotlight on my crotch. Damon made sure to ask "Now can everybody see OK?"
Everyone got set up and as the contractions rolled on I started to push at about 10pm. I guess I made good progress because after an hour of pushing, at 11:01 pm, little Mr.
Fenton made his debut - all 9 lbs and 2 oz of him. What a huge baby! No one could believe it! Soon he was on my chest and Damon was cutting the cord after it stopped pulsing.
I did it!
And I'm glad of how I did it. I'm glad I went to the hospital right away (as I would not have been able to handle a car ride through those contractions!). I'm glad I labored as long as I did without the epidural (so that the labor went as fast as it did unhindered). I'm glad I finally did get the epidural (so that I could enjoy the birth at some point). And, even with the nurses and their stupid form, I'm glad I was in the hospital. I had thought about a home birth, but since Damon didn't want to go there, we never really looked into it. But soon after the baby was born, my blood pressure did a nose dive and I'm glad the doc was there to help with that. I also tore a little, and that wouldn't have been fun to deal with at home. I'm proud that I did this without a c-section, and was happy that the doc supported me throughout. In fact, nowhere during the labor did anyone mention uterine rupture. Maybe because I had written all over my birth plan that I understand the risks and basically just leave me the hell alone, or maybe because it just wasn't an issue, but either way it turned out great. And with no c-section to heal from, life was good. This was my best birth!
