one week ago today
Posted by Isabel on August 30th, 2010This time last week I was in the birthing room at the hospital watching the nurses check out our new little guy. The King and I kept looking at each other and kinda smiling and kinda not. I think we were both thinking, “there is no turning back now.” To be fair there really hadn’t been a turning back point in the previous 40 weeks. But actually seeing a baby just cements it.
A few months back a friend of my younger sister’s had her first baby. My sister had gone to visit her and the new baby at the hospital. When my sister got home she called me to tell me about it (even though I have no idea who this girl was. That’s sort of how my sister rolls….keeping me updated on complete strangers). My sister proceeded to give me the play by play on her friends labor and delivery. At one point my sister’s voice got quiet.
“She said it hurt. Really bad.”
I wasn’t drinking any water at the time, but if I had been my response would have included me spitting my water clear across the room.
“I’m sorry for failing you as a big sister. I had just assumed you *knew* it hurt. I guess I should have told you.”
“Well, I knew it hurt. But she said it hurt really bad.”
“‘Yeah, it hurts REALLY bad!”
I said this after only having given birth to one baby. And via c-section. I admit that I only had about two or three contractions that “hurt really bad” until my glorious epidural kicked in. Three, not a high number at all. But still, they hurt and I remembered that. I had been induced with Babboo and was given my epidural pretty much right from the start. While I ended up having a c-section after pushing for three hours, it was still a pretty pain-free delivery. (Be assured, the pain came after the surgery!)
Last Sunday night while giving Babboo a shower I realized the contractions I’d been having for the last six months were actually starting to hurt. I instantly thought back to Janssen’s birth post from last month. I remembered that she had said during her contractions she had been to take some very long walks, go out to eat. She even sleep through the night and ate breakfast with her husband before finally going to the hospital to give birth. So although my contractions had been about five minutes apart for an hour, I figured I had time.
I called the doctor and talked to her.
“Can you stand the contractions?”
“Yeah. I guess.” (Thinking, but not saying, “but I’d rather NOT!”
“Since you can still stand them, I’m not too worried. But you’re five days overdue, so I’m going to have you come in. Just to be sure.”
To me that didn’t sound anything like “Yes, you are definitely in labor!”
None the less, we called The King’s parents and asked them to come over and watch Babboo while we “ran to the hospital.” The King was pretty sure we’d be back in a few hours.
I was starting to think that he was probably wrong. But, I tried to be tough and didn’t say anything.
The King’s parents live a good twenty minutes from our house. I hurried and took a shower, shaved my legs and read Babboo a book and tucked him into bed. When The King’s dad got to our house I was sitting at the kitchen table with my hospital bag, my purse and my jacket on.
I was ready.
The King and his dad started to small talk a little.
I quickly butted in. “We need to go. NOW!”
The hospital is a good five minutes from our house.
I had two contractions in the car. AND THEY HURT.
(This may have been the point when I was sure Janssen had been lying about how long until she had gone to the hospital!)
(Or maybe I just hadn’t remembered her post right. But yeah, I needed to blame someone and it was going to be Janssen!)
I turned up the heat on the seat in the car, hoping that a #5 would be hot enough to take the pain away. It didn’t.
We parked the car, and walked across the street to the emergency room, and then up to Labor & Delivery. By this time it was about 9 or 10 at night. They sent a triage nurse in to get us. Since all the triage rooms were full she took us straight to a birthing room. Which is where we stayed for the remainder of the night.
As soon as the nurse confirmed how dilated I was my water decided to break.
“I think my water just broke.”
“Sure enough. You could probably have this baby in the next hour.”
“But first, MY EPIDURAL!”
By this time I’d had far more then the two or three painful contractions I’d had with Babboo. And I was not handling them very good. Not very good at all. Thankfully my epidural was quickly administered. And unlike when I was having Babboo, it did NOT immediately take away the pain.
I heard the anesthesiologist tell the nurse that if it wasn’t working in fifteen minutes to call him. I though to myself that if it weren’t working in fifteen minutes I’d go ahead and administer some more myself. The anesthesiologist returned fifteen minutes later (or two hours, who could tell) and gave me more drugs. Again, they didn’t immediately take away the pain.
I’ll be completely honest here, this was not one of my better moments. I was in a lot of pain. Pain that I honestly wasn’t prepared for. I was scared of what was going to happen next. I was scared that I might be in pain for a long time. I cried and screamed and asked to die. (Hey, I’m just being honest here.) I was quite sure I wouldn’t be able to do it. The King was great and held my hand and said, you can do it!”
I had to do it because I had no other choice.
I tried to focus on a light above the bed. I tried to focus on the baby and how much I loved him and how he’d be worth all this pain in the end.
I focused on how thirsty I was and how I’d be able to drink a ton of water once the baby was born.
The anesthesiologist returned for the third time to give me more drugs. Slowly, but surely, it worked this time. Once the pain had ceased and I had gained control over my emotions I looked over at The King and I could tell he was scared. I had freaked him out. We started to talk a little bit and we both calmed down. The nurse suggested we try to get some sleep since I’d be having to push shortly.
I slept a little bit. I think The King might have slept a little bit too. But eventually the nurse came in and woke us up and told me I needed to start pushing. I pushed through a few (non painful) contractions. The nurse could tell I was pretty tired. She said I could try to sleep some more, but that I HAD to push in the next hour or so.
She came back to the room forty five minutes later. (Ha! That was no hour!) She told me I had to push. There was no more time for naps. And so I started pushing.
And pushing.
And pushing.
The doctor got there and assured me that she wasn’t going to let me push for three hours like I had with Babboo. She said I’d have to go for a c-section if I went that long.
I kept pushing.
And pushing.
The doctor kept telling me I was doing a great job. The King just said what she said. And I kept pushing.
I could see the doctor and nurse looking at each other and sort of whispering. I asked if I was making any progress and the doctor said I really wasn’t. I was pushing my little heart out and the baby wasn’t moving at all.
At hour three the doctor told me she didn’t want to give up just yet. She was pretty sure I could do, if I just had more time or a little help. We discussed our options and we all decided to give the vacuum one try. If that one try didn’t work, then it was c-section time. In order to best facilitate this I would need to be in the operating room and prepped for surgery before she’d get out the vacuum. That way if it didn’t work they could instantly cut into me.
The doctor made me promise that with the one contraction she was going to use the vacuum on would have to be the contraction I pushed the hardest. Even though I was so tired, I promised her I would push my little heart out.
And I did.
I felt the head pop out. The doctor told me to push one more time, really good.
And I did.
And the rest of the (not so) little guy came out, no problem.
He was quickly taken away (there had been some meconium during labor and some high temperatures) to be checked. The King was right with him and I could see him from the operating table. They told me he weighed 9 pounds and 3 ounces. A whole eight ounces smaller the Babboo was. But still quite large. I was pretty sure I’d ripped myself all up pushing him out. The doctor said it wasn’t bad at all and she quickly stitched me up a bit.
We were taken back to the birthing room. Like I said, that was one week ago this morning.
I’m still trying to recover “down there”, if you know what I mean (and I think you do). I keep thinking to myself, “why didn’t anyone tell me how messed up your girl parts are after birthing a child?!” This makes me think of my sister and how she didn’t know that contractions hurt. Really bad. I knew there was no way you could have a baby and not suffer some effects. But I don’t recall anyone telling me how crazy painful these effects would be. (Dude, it hurts down there. A lot. And I don’t even want to know what it looks like!) My pregnancy book assures me I’ll feel better in “seven to ten days”. Today is day seven. I’m giving it three more days and then I’m really going to start complaining.
In the mean time I’m going to try to take it easy. (I washed windows on Saturday. That probably wasn’t such a good idea.) I’m on my own for a little bit today. So far I’ve managed to feed the baby two times, change two diapers, and taken about a hundred pictures in Photo Booth of me and Rerun. (Of the two of us he looks the best sans make-up.)
But look, I did it. I had a baby.
And to those of you out there who didn’t get the original memo: childbirth hurts. Really bad. And it will continue to hurt for “seven to ten days” after.
