Reeve is finally down for the count (for now), and though there are a million other things I need to be doing, I wanted to make a point to sit down and continue the birth story or I may never get around to doing it. Maybe Reeve wants to sleep for a little bit. He's been going full speed all morning. (Edit: this is actually now the third day I've sat down to work on this post. Reeve has been able to relax a little better today. He has a blocked tear duct, so that has been a little rough on him, but I've managed to help him have some relief.)
Things start to get a little blurry where I left off. All the excitement and medication made the proceeding nights and days sort of surreal. During rare times when I was able to take a moment and think about what was happening, I noticed I was sort of on the outside looking in. I've come to believe that God gives us that ability. Maybe he knows that the physical pain could potentially prohibit us from fully enjoying the miracle of giving birth, so he gives us little moments to peer into reality without being totally aware of our current state. Either way, I was surely grateful for the ability to detach from my body somewhat, and maybe you will understand why as you read on.
My nurse, Anna, gave me a little introductory speech about what the plan of action would be. I don't remember much because so many monumental things happened in those 24 hours, but I remember her telling me that because my membranes had ruptured, they couldn't administer Cervidil for risk of infection. Instead they were going to insert a tiny, dissolving pill that would help me dilate. I can't remember what it's called, but it's basically the pill form of Cervidil, if I'm even spelling that right. Haha. After a few hours of letting the pill do it's work, they would insert another. Pretty much, they were trying to help me dilate. At this point I hadn't dilated whatsoever, and Anna said it was going to be a "relay race", so I should just settle in and get ready. I should have taken her words to heart.
After the first pill was inserted, it took an hour or so for anything to really happen. I remember going to the restroom, and suddenly feeling crazy pain all over my body. I didn't know what was going on, but it took FOREVER for me to finish doing my business and getting back into bed. Those early contractions were terrible, but nothing compared to what was coming. Oh, I was so naive.
My contractions slowly strengthened, but at this point they were still manageable. I finally realized that I was stupid for thinking during the weeks prior that, perhaps I was actually having contractions, but because of my super mega strength, they just weren't phasing me. So, for you who are planning to have children, TRUST ME and others when we say that you will know when you are having an actual contraction. So many people told me that, but I was always questioning my body and thought that every little weird pain could potentially be a contraction. Nope. You will know.
They monitored my contractions as well as Reeve's heartbeat. This was good/bad for me because every time the sound on the machine would change, I became a little edgy and had to look at the lines to make sure they were in the safe zone. This allowed for zero sleep. I should have heeded Anna's advice to rest after the first dose of whatever-it-was. I didn't though, and to this day, I'm regretting it. I keep looking back just wanting to take those last couple hours of potential sleep and absorb them into every inch of myself. Note to future moms: Also believe others when they say you will not ever sleep again after the baby is born. They aren't kidding.
As the contractions grew stronger, my thoughts started getting weird, and it was at this point that I slowly became a little disconnected from what was going on. Not that I wasn't there, feeling it emotionally, physically. Oh, I definitely felt it all. But it all seemed like a movie. I, a baby, really, sitting across the room from my mom, who still treats me like a baby to this day, was about to become a mother myself. My husband of more than seven years sat next to me, falling in and out of sleep, but continued to hold my hand. He was about to be a dad, and he still seemed like the 20-year-old, long-haired hippie that had dance parties with me in our first apartment. How was it that time had brought us to this moment? We'd been waiting for this tiny person to come for much longer than the nine months that he'd been in my belly. We'd been praying for him for years.
At some point Rita came back and monitored me over night. She had me rock in a rocking chair, I guess to get things a-going. This actually happened between the two pill insertions, I think. Forgive me, it's all such a blur. Reeve hadn't dropped whatsoever, despite our declarations that he had. It was definitely going to be a relay race, and I began to worry when the word "C-Section" started falling off the tongues of the people around me.
Rita was super sweet. She was an older lady with years of nursing experience. She was friendly and had the same sarcastic humor that Derick and I have. I felt comfortable around her, and I could tell that she liked us. The rumor was that she'd actually requested to be our nurse.
My contractions became closer together and stronger as the night went on. I don't know what time anything really happened. I just know things got harder. The lightheartedness that once filled the room slowly dissipated. My parents and Derick's parents were in and out...well, I don't think my mom left the room once. If she did, I didn't notice. I held Derick's hand during each contraction. I remember holding his wrist and arm up in the air in very strange positions. I thought it was weird/funny, but it seemed to help keep my mind off the pain. I guess because I just kept thinking about how weird it was. My mom rubbed my feet and legs. They weren't really hurting too terribly, but if she stopped, it hurt, so I had her continue. She did without argument. Sometimes Derick and Mom switched duties. I remember telling Derick to back away, saying "your BREATH!" I was getting more irritable, but I tried with all my might to be strong. I'd tried for the past nine months to be strong, to not complain, to remember what it's all for. I'd done well, I thought, but it was getting more and more difficult to be comfortable. When I was hot, Derick fanned me with his hand, and I made him stop because it made me nervous. Those two incidents will forever be in my mind. I was rude to the man who was putting up with a lot of my crap. Literally. More on that later.
Anna and Brittany came back and Anna told me what was going on. Reeve still hadn't dropped, and though I'd dilated, it was only to maybe a two or so. Nothing was really happening, so they were going to administer Pitocin. I'd only learned what that was a couple weeks prior, and I still really wasn't sure what it really did. I'm still not quite sure, but I do know that it made my contractions so frequent and so strong that I couldn't say anything except things like "I can't do this" and "it hurrrrrrts." I'm a pretty tough cookie. Derick might disagree, but for a girl, I can take some pain if I have to. If I can focus and if I have no choice, I can deal with physical infliction, but those contractions were HORRIBLE. Looking back, I can't even remember how they felt. I just remember thinking at the time that I was going to die. I wondered if I could pass out from pain. I remember talking to Derick and to Mom individually. Somehow it helped to have each of them encourage me separately.
Things are really, really blurry at this point. I don't know the timeline of events, and I don't know who did or said what. I just remember having a couple emotional breakdowns with Anna as she told me that the docs were talking about a c-section. At this point, I balled my eyes out and told her that I really didn't want a c-section if it was possible. It was looking like that was what things had come down to, but Anna was very sweet and encouraging. I was liking her more and more. She told me that no matter what happened, I was going to be a mommy soon. I was going to have a baby and it was going to be a day of celebration. No matter how he got here, he was going to be my angel. That helped. Deep down, though, I just didn't want the surgery. I was super scared of this. I had Derick text one of my friends who'd had the surgery to ask her if she was scared. So silly. I couldn't stop crying about it, and each of my family members came to stand next to me and reassure me. The one moment that stands out in my mind is when my dad, super tough, came to hug me and tell me it was ok. It was a tender moment, unlike any that I'd ever had with my Daddy. I can't really remember what he said, but he was so comforting. I didn't want to tell everyone what I was envisioning, but I felt like if I did let someone know, maybe the thought would just be "out there," and I wouldn't feel so scared. So, I told them that I just couldn't picture having the surgery and surviving. So dumb, I know. C-sections are performed every day, on so many people, that they really aren't that big of a deal at all. But I just felt in my heart that I would not wake up from it to see my son.
I'm not sure if this happened before or after anything I've mentioned. Like I said, it all runs together, so I'm basically just reverberating what happened, in no particular order. When the contractions were in high gear, they started talking about breaking my water and epidurals. I had two options, and a
really nice doctor, Tiffany Middleton, who looked a lot like Michelle
Obama, came to discuss the options with me. At this moment, I don't remember the two options and Derick isn't here for me to ask, but I do know that they had to do with breaking my water, waiting an hour, and getting an epidural. One was more "natural" than the other, and of course the "unnatural" option could possibly be a less painful alternative. They didn't describe them as "natural" or "unnatural," but I just knew. I took the unnatural route. The only reason I know this is because I made Tiffany Middleton explain both options to me about five times, Derick had to explain them to me twice, and Anna piped in a little, too, and once I made my decision, Tiffany Middleton told me that she doesn't like to tell patients to do one thing or the other. She wants them to make the decision they feel most comfortable with. When she said this, something just told me that I'd chosen the more unnatural route, and at that point, I wasn't concerned about nature. I was concerned with the EXTREME FREAKING PAIN all over my body.
Cervical checks were the worst. They tried to do them in between contractions, but mine were so close together that, sure enough, they'd be checking and BOOM, I'd get attacked. I became more and more comfortable with the people around me. I didn't care if they saw me cry or if they saw my butt or if I said really stupid things while they were around. Pain can make you insensitive.
Oh and when your water breaks, it's really creepy. I'm not sure how it is when it happens on its own, but when Tiff broke mine, it sounded like someone popped a GIANT water balloon. Even Derick was impressed.
Finally, finally, after I waited the hour, I was getting an epidural. This was the only time Derick and my mom left the room that I know of. I didn't know what to expect at all, but my friends had really talked the epidural up, so I was excited. The anesthesiologist (I spelled that correctly on my first try, so boom shocka locka locka) came in and was kinda a turd. He kept saying he was going to make me feel much better, and looking back, that seems weird, but I was glad to hear it at the time Luckily, Rita was there. She helped me to sit in a strange position and hug a pillow. She put her forehead to mine, and I remember her saying, "I would have made the exact same decision. You made the right choice." I asked her, "Really?" and she said yes. She talked me through the strangeness of the epidural injection. It didn't feel bad compared to the contractions I was having. On a scale of frowny face to teethy smile, it was a strong grin. Not bad. I asked the turd when it would kick in, and he told me shortly. I laid back and waited, and I think it was at this point that Rita got a really serious look on her face and pushed the emergency button on my bed. She moved really quickly and started doing a lot of things at once. She made me put on the oxygen mask and told me to start breathing deeply. I asked her twice what was going on, and she said very calmly that the baby's heart rate was dropping. When she said that, I started sucking that oxygen down like it was a freaking ice cold root beer. I was getting scared, but in the same breath that she called the nurses off, she told me it wasn't unusual when you get an epidural and his heart rate was already heading back up. I continued to suck the oxygen like each breath was my last. I was doing it without thinking, until Rita finally told me to chill out on the oxygen.
A few minutes later, they let everyone come back in. I was feeling much better. Much MUCH better. I remember telling Derick the oxygen story but thinking he wasn't taking me seriously. Epidurals are awesome. I wasn't feeling a thing. At all. For about fifteen minutes. Then, I slowly began to feel some pressure/pain on my left side. It was weird, and I told Anna about it. She told me to just roll over. Epidurals work with gravity, so maybe I just needed to let gravity do its work. The pain moved from side to side for a while, and it kept getting stronger until it was finally a crazy burning all over my entire abdomen. It was horrible. I can't remember what was worse, the actual contractions or this burning pain that they thought was a "hot spot." When I couldn't take anymore, I cried to Anna and told her I just couldn't do it. She was so nice to have the anesthesiologist come back to give me more meds. This time, it worked for about five minutes and the pain and burning were back in full force. I was constantly in tears and I couldn't talk. Apparently, epidurals do not work on my body. Not where they need to work anyway. My legs were dead to the world, but I felt all the contractions and they were even more painful after the guy gave me medicine for the third time. By that time, Anna told me it just wasn't going to work and my only option was just to deal with it. So I dealt. I have no idea how I did, either.
Reeve was still super high and posterior, but miraculously, I was dilating. I remember them saying I was at a seven or so, and Anna just couldn't believe it. She actually grabbed a doctor that I only remember seeing just that once to, I guess, brag about my advancement. This doctor was discouraging as she only stayed in the room for maybe five minutes and still talked about how it wasn't looking like I was going to be able to have natural birth. Anna was still excited. She told me that because he was posterior, however, it was going to make everything even more difficult than it already was. So, she had me move from my back to my hands and knees (this mere movement was almost impossible. I was feeling every tinge of pain in every part of my body besides my legs. My legs were wonderfully numb, not that it mattered.)
On my hands and knees, she had me wiggle my hips back and forth during every contraction. I soon found that once I started moving, there was no stopping. So I buried my head in my hands on the bed, wiggled my hips constantly (this happened for about an hour), and didn't say a word. Anna kept telling me that I needed to let them know when I was feeling the urgency to poop. She said that was an early sign that it was nearing time to push. I felt the urgency a few times, and she told me not to fight it. So this is where the story gets a little crappy, if you know what I mean. I've told people that I have no shame whatsoever these days, and that has a lot to do with the moments I'm about to describe.
Anna said that I needed to relax my bottom. She said this would get things rolling, and he would be able to make his way down. But because I was tensing up, Reeve was having a very difficult--nearly impossible--time getting in the right position. I kept telling her, "but I will poop, but I will poop." And finally she got down at eye level with me and said, "I don't care. Go ahead and poop." I guess it took someone telling me I was good to go before I would actually "let loose." When I finally did, sure enough, I couldn't stop. So for the hour I was wiggling my hips, I was also pooping. Poor Derick and Brittany, who were both next to me. But let me just tell you that if your biggest fear is pooping during childbirth, you just better get over it. That was not my biggest fear, but the actual event caught me totes off guard.
"Are you ready to start pushing?"
Errrrrkk...breaks. What???
The time had come. I was going to push? So, what, no c-section?? At this point, I was feeling that having the surgery was the next step, and I was so tired and in so much agonizing pain that I was sort of looking forward to some relief and potentially some pain killers that actually worked.When my hour of wiggling/pooping was over, I was turned back around for another check. Anna said, "you did it!" I wasn't sure what I'd done besides make a mess of the place, but she was excited, so I assumed it was a good thing. "He turned. He's in the right position! You did it!" It was at that moment, after all the pooping and pain and contractions and crying and speechlessness...after the nine months of waiting, the puking, the spitting, the hating my favorite foods because they made me vomit...after having my heart completely broken this time last year and feeling nothing but hopelessness...after years of waiting and feeling like if I'd made one good decision in my life and marriage, it was to wait until the moment was right to have a baby...after spending the majority of 2012 looking at my belly and knowing that not another damn thing would ever matter in this world again...I finally felt like a real mother.
In a few hours, that would become reality....
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