“Go ahead and put this on, but make sure it opens in the front.” The nurse said sweetly.
Hmm. I’m already feeling less than comfortable since I am thirty pounds heavier than I have ever been in my life. My anxiety level is pretty high, so this manifests in a very shaky feeling all over me. My balance is mediocre at best with this enormous mass protruding from what was once a flat stomach. Might as well add insult to injury by having the gown that really isn’t suited as proper attire for a normal size human open in the front for easier flashing potential.
I manage to get undressed and get the gown on without toppling over. Time to head to the hospital bed.
“Let’s get you all setup now.” The nurse says. “This will monitor your contractions and this is the fetal heart monitor.” Once I am strapped in, the steady whoosh of my baby’s heart is a pleasant reminder of why I’m up so early. The strip that shows the contractions remains a steady straight line since I’m here for an induction and none of the medicines have been started yet.
The nurse leaves for a minute and Shawn steps closer to the bed. He’s been pretty quiet all morning. I’m not sure if it is the early hour or maybe he’s thinking about what lays ahead of us. He is about to become a father, after all. “How are you feeling?” He asks.
“Fine.” I lie. Since Shawn is around this kind of thing all the time I feel I have to be strong with minimal nerves showing. As I answer him, the shaky feeling returns with a wave through my stomach. At least they haven’t started the pitocin. I think to myself.
The nurse returns holding a tray containing a needle and some bags of liquid. I’m not one to be afraid of needles, but was the medicine that would be causing my future agony in one of the bags?
“Let’s get your IV in so we can get your fluids started.”
Fluids. That’s good. Nothing too menacing about that. After she finishes getting the IV in and starts my fluids, she leaves again. Shawn comes back over to the bed to inspect her work.
“Could have done a better job with that.” He’s right. Not only had it hurt more than I thought it should, but she made a huge mess and got blood everywhere. I have so much tape on my arm to hold the IV in place that I’m already dreading the removal because of all the hairs that will be yanked out.
“Hi! I’m Randy. I’ll be with you all day today for your labor and delivery.” The new nurse said in a sweet Alabama accent that I’ve come to love. She seems nice, which is good considering how intimate we are going to be today. The anxiety peaks its shaky head again. “Well, lets get this thing started.” She walks over to the IV pole and hangs a new bag.
“That’s the medicine that’s going to make me hurt right?” I say as nonchalantly as possible even though my heart is racing. We don’t really have to do this right? He can just stay in there. He seems comfortable enough. I can deal with being huge. That won’t be near as bad as contractions and actually delivering this baby.
“The medicine starts slow and the contractions will slowly build up. It’s not instant.” Randy tells me. This sends an enormous wave of relief over me. Gradual, that’s good. I can handle gradual.
Next my OB, Dr. Foster, comes in to check on how things are going. After shooting the breeze a bit with Shawn and making sure I was doing alright, he says the kindest, most wonderful words I’ve ever imagined. “Randy, she can have her epidural as soon as she starts getting uncomfortable. Just call the anesthesiologist as soon as she asks.” Thank you Lord. You are so good!
About forty-five minutes go by and there are starting to be little peaks on the readout that shows my contractions. Nothing too terrible so far.
“Let me check to see how far you have progressed.” Randy said as casually as if she was about shake my hand. A few very uncomfortable minutes later we found I was only about three centimeters dilated.
Another thirty minutes to an hour go by and I start having some stronger contractions. It doesn’t feel anything like I expect it should. The pain is not that severe. What is horrible is the fact that I’m starting to feel nauseous. I mean really nauseous. Ugh, I am never going to get through this day if I’m throwing up through the entire thing.
About this time my parents arrive. “You look a little green.” My mom says with concern on her face. Try being on this side of it.
“Well, I’m not trying to be a martyr here. Shawn, can you find Randy and have her get the anesthesiologist? I really don’t want to be sick all day.”
Randy comes bouncing back into the room. Her perky personality is grating on my nerves a bit at this point, but I do have enough presence of mind to realize it is the labor causing my aversion to her, so I try to remain civil. “Let’s check your progress again really quick while we wait for the epidural.” I mean really. Does she enjoy this part of her job? Is she secretly into torture? “Hmm, you seem to only still be at 3 cm.” A disapproving look comes across her face like I’m letting down all of womankind by wimping out so early. “Well, Dr. Foster did say you could have your epidural as soon as you wanted it. Hopefully, this doesn’t make your labor drag on longer than necessary.” My disdain towards Randy is growing by leaps and bounds as I fight to keep from throwing up all over her.
The anesthesiologist arrives. After listing off a list of the horrible things that could happen to me from this procedure, he finally begins it.
“Please swing your legs over the side of the table and bend down curving your back like a cat stretching.” Um, does this guy really think I can curve my back? I have a good sized watermelon for a stomach that makes bending over impossible, and if I stay bent in this position much longer I’m going to pass out from the lack of oxygen. I guess my back is curved enough for him because there was a small pinch like a bee sting followed by a strange pressure in my back. After a little tingling all the way down to my leg and some taping on my back, the doctor (my new favorite person) says he is finished. I swing my legs back up on the bed and it is amazing. I feel great. My parents walk back in the room and my mom comments on how much better I look.
“Good drugs.” I respond.
The nausea is gone and the next couple of hours go along smoothly. The ever present Randy decides it is time to check my progress again around noon. “Well, you are about 6 cm dilated. That’s great because you are progressing about 1 cm an hour, which is what we like to see.” Ha, see, getting my epidural so early didn’t slow me down!
Turns out I followed the 1 cm an hour pretty closely. Around 4:00 or so, 9 hours since I arrived at the hospital, I finally have reached the point of no return. It is time to start pushing. Since my epidural my anxiety level really came down and I began to think I might actually pull this off. That was until it sunk in I was actually going to have to deliver this baby.
Two hours later, the pushing is not doing the trick. “We will try forceps to see if we can help him out by pulling a little bit.” Dr. Foster suggests. Sounds a little barbaric to me, but I’m really getting tired and have never been so thirsty in my entire life.
“Whatever you think is best.” I manage to get out on one of my breaks. Well, those are not helping either.
“It looks like we aren’t going to be able to get this baby out without doing a c-section.” Dr. Foster tells us looking a little worried about what my reaction may be.
“No problem. Let’s go.” I say. This is great! I get to bypass the scariest part of the delivery now and just have him cut out of my stomach. My thoughts may seem a little masochistic to some, preferring surgery over mother nature’s plan, but to me it is the norm since that is what my mom and sister both went through. It seems like a much less scary option for me.
About thirty minutes later we finally get to meet Connor Stowe Green. He is perfect, even if there is a bit of a cone head. My life is changed forever, and I have been given the most important job I’ll ever have - raising this precious baby boy!
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