This story doesn't start on September 19th. Trust me. It lasted MUCH longer than 1 day. Some parts seem like they lasted an eternity, others seem like they flew by in only seconds. September 18th seemed like it lasted an eternity.
It was a Tuesday, September 18th. I was 38 weeks pregnant. I arrived at work at my usual prompt 7:00am hour. Nothing was out of the ordinary. I started about my day, only half productive due to the early hour. Around 10am I needed to go the bathroom..this was frequent practice around this time of my pregnancy. I went to the bathroom and immediately noticed that I was bleeding. A LOT. Panic set in. I had read all of the baby books. Bleeding = Bad. I wasn't feeling any differently, no contractions, M.D. was still kicking away. But Blood. LOTS of blood. I immediately rushed to the nearest conference room and called the birthing center at our hospital. I sat on hold for what seemed like hours (it was more like minutes). Come In! they said. I rushed out of the conference room, I couldn't find my supervisor, I found my team lead, I have to leave!
GO! she said. No questions. She had no idea how much I appreciated that. I got in the car and started to drive. Hands shaking. I tried to call Steven. No answer. I called again. And again. And again. He was at a work site. No answer. I called my mom, in tears. She talked me off the ledge for the time being. I kept driving. Kept calling Steven. I finally called his mom, Please try calling Steven, tell him to call me. Again, no questions. She sensed my panic, but stopped herself from prying. Steven beeped in. Leave where you are. Come to the hospital. I'm bleeding. I arrived at the hospital. They immediately hooked me up to the fetal monitor. Perfect heartbeat. There was no panic. I was still panicked. Steven arrived, he was panicked. They asked questions. The baby looked fine. I was not in labor. We sat in the hospital birthing room for 6 hours. Nothing happened. We hardly even saw a nurse, except every hour or so. The bleeding stopped. Go home they said. Call if the bleeding starts up again. We drove home.
5 minutes after arriving home I felt it. It started again. I rushed to the bathroom. Steven! Call the birthing center! I'm bleeding! We called. Come back in. We went back in. I called my mom. She was the stand-by birth coach in case Steven passed out on the floor. I'm coming up! Something is going on. I told her not to. Not until we knew what was going on. We drove back up, my doctor was there. Dr. Barry. She seemed concerned. Dr. Barry doesn't seem concern unless there's reason to, that's why she was the perfect doctor for me. She leveled my psychosis throughout my pregnancy. Now, she was concerned. The bleeding continued, slow, but still ever-present.
We waited another couple hours. Dr. Barry came back in. We don't know why you're bleeding, but we don't want to keep that baby in there if you're continuing to bleed. We had just had an ultrasound the day before. I was measuring 42 weeks at only 38 weeks. They thought M.D. was too big. The ultrasound results were in, he was not too big, but was fully developed so delivery would not be risky. We are going to start you on Pitocin. There goes my birth plan, or what little of it I was holding onto. I called my mom. Come up. We're having the baby! She started driving.
The nurse came in, We are starting your Pitocin and we are going to be fairly aggressive with it. If you are thinking about getting an epidural you might want to think about putting the port in now since the anesthesiologist in the birthing center now. He may not be back for a while, and it can take over an hour from when you request him until your epidural starts taking effect. *Cue birth plan being violently thrown out of the window* Give me the epidural port now. Don't start the medicine flow yet.
The anesthesiologist arrived. I was terrified. I was more scared about this moment than any other. I have scoliosis. It's not guaranteed that people with low-back curvatures will be able to feel the effects of an epidural. Also, who likes needles in their back? Anybody!?! *cricket cricket* Exactly. Sit on the side of the bed. This will pinch at first. Then I want you to tell me if you have any pain or odd sensations. Lean forward.
FML.
Steven was holding my hands. He was white as a sheet. He almost passed out. It wasn't so bad. Felt weird, but didn't hurt.
That's done.
Pitocin starts. Mom arrives. Almost at the same moment. She was wearing a t-shirt from my little brother's choral group days. He was in a quartet. The shirt had some sexual innuendo about 4-somes. We laughed at how we had just become "that family" at the hospital. Then the waiting began. Night came quickly. I couldn't sleep. I kept hearing the same mantra, No progress, no progress, no progress. And, we're going to up your pitocin. I started the epidural drip when they started upping the pitocin. I didn't feel anything. Honestly. My mom was in shock. She was halfway pissed off. She had 3 kids with NO medication. It wasn't given out like candy in those days. We all 3 watched my contractions on the screen. MOUNTAINS. Mom would look from the screen, to my face, back to the screen, back to my face. She was in awe. No reaction. We waited some more. Laurel, we need to break your water. You're not progression and we think the baby's not dropping because you have too much fluid. Another doctor came in to break my water. Dr. Mericle. Yup. A baby doctor named Dr. Mericle (pronounced: miracle). The irony is not lost on me. She broke my water. I could tell you a whole blog post on that experience. I won't...I'll save you. Let's just say they were right. The breaking of my water set a new birth center record for that hospital. I almost built an ark.
The night passed. No progress. No progress. No progress.
At some point the next morning, September 19th, something happened. No, not a baby. Not yet. The something that happened is the kind of story you're not supposed to tell. But I'm going to anyways. That's what this blog is, afterall. Telling the stories nobody else will.
Slowly, but surely, my epidural stopped working.
I'm not kidding.
It started slowly. I started to be able to feel one of my legs REALLY well. Like, not kinda tingly, numb, epidural-y. Nope. I could lift it, move it, wiggle it around. I could have hopped on it across the room. The "feeling" sensation creeped up my leg. Then it transferred to the other one. I told the nurse. I'm starting to be able to FEEL. She thought I was nuts. I thought she was a bitch. She was. Because 15 minutes later I'm doing those stupid-ass breathing exercises you learn in birthing class that you're not supposed to have to use at 5cm with an epidural. I was having massive pitocin-induced contractions and I could feel everything. I. COULD. FEEL. EVERYTHING. I lost my mind. I had no patience for anything. My mom was on her phone, Steven was watching T.V. they both were trying to avoid being murderd. They were smart. If I could have reached them I would have killed them for breathing wrong. My mom took on the nazi role. She marched out into the hallway and told them to call the anesthesiologist back. The nurse was ignoring me. I was going to kill anyone within reach. The anesthesiologist came. He believed me, bless his heart. He did something with the dosage and I could BREATHE again. The contraction mountains kept rolling, but I could function.
No progress, no progress, no progress, no progress, no progress, no progress, no progress.
There's this rule in the baby delivery world. 24 hours. That's how long, after your water breaks, you have to get the baby out. I looked at it like the tub was draining and the goldfish wouldn't survive once the last drop was out. I'm pretty sure that's not really how it works. Needless to say, we made it to the 20 hour mark post-water breaking. Mind you, this was 30 hours after our first visit to the hospital AND 29 hours into "labor". FML.
Dr. Barry came into the room. We're going to need to do a C-Section. *Cue birth plan bursting into flames mid-air on the way out of the window* Dr. Barry is not an ob-gyn. She can't perform C-Sections. Dr. MIRACLE will be performing your surgery, but I will be in the operating room to assist. This moment really reinstated my love for my doctor. Any doc-off-the-block would've headed home for the night. Not my doctor. We decided Steven could man-up and handle being in the delivery room. Apparently an operating room is more daunting than 2 tours in Iraq.
GO! she said. No questions. She had no idea how much I appreciated that. I got in the car and started to drive. Hands shaking. I tried to call Steven. No answer. I called again. And again. And again. He was at a work site. No answer. I called my mom, in tears. She talked me off the ledge for the time being. I kept driving. Kept calling Steven. I finally called his mom, Please try calling Steven, tell him to call me. Again, no questions. She sensed my panic, but stopped herself from prying. Steven beeped in. Leave where you are. Come to the hospital. I'm bleeding. I arrived at the hospital. They immediately hooked me up to the fetal monitor. Perfect heartbeat. There was no panic. I was still panicked. Steven arrived, he was panicked. They asked questions. The baby looked fine. I was not in labor. We sat in the hospital birthing room for 6 hours. Nothing happened. We hardly even saw a nurse, except every hour or so. The bleeding stopped. Go home they said. Call if the bleeding starts up again. We drove home.
5 minutes after arriving home I felt it. It started again. I rushed to the bathroom. Steven! Call the birthing center! I'm bleeding! We called. Come back in. We went back in. I called my mom. She was the stand-by birth coach in case Steven passed out on the floor. I'm coming up! Something is going on. I told her not to. Not until we knew what was going on. We drove back up, my doctor was there. Dr. Barry. She seemed concerned. Dr. Barry doesn't seem concern unless there's reason to, that's why she was the perfect doctor for me. She leveled my psychosis throughout my pregnancy. Now, she was concerned. The bleeding continued, slow, but still ever-present.
We waited another couple hours. Dr. Barry came back in. We don't know why you're bleeding, but we don't want to keep that baby in there if you're continuing to bleed. We had just had an ultrasound the day before. I was measuring 42 weeks at only 38 weeks. They thought M.D. was too big. The ultrasound results were in, he was not too big, but was fully developed so delivery would not be risky. We are going to start you on Pitocin. There goes my birth plan, or what little of it I was holding onto. I called my mom. Come up. We're having the baby! She started driving.
The nurse came in, We are starting your Pitocin and we are going to be fairly aggressive with it. If you are thinking about getting an epidural you might want to think about putting the port in now since the anesthesiologist in the birthing center now. He may not be back for a while, and it can take over an hour from when you request him until your epidural starts taking effect. *Cue birth plan being violently thrown out of the window* Give me the epidural port now. Don't start the medicine flow yet.
The anesthesiologist arrived. I was terrified. I was more scared about this moment than any other. I have scoliosis. It's not guaranteed that people with low-back curvatures will be able to feel the effects of an epidural. Also, who likes needles in their back? Anybody!?! *cricket cricket* Exactly. Sit on the side of the bed. This will pinch at first. Then I want you to tell me if you have any pain or odd sensations. Lean forward.
FML.
Steven was holding my hands. He was white as a sheet. He almost passed out. It wasn't so bad. Felt weird, but didn't hurt.
That's done.
Pitocin starts. Mom arrives. Almost at the same moment. She was wearing a t-shirt from my little brother's choral group days. He was in a quartet. The shirt had some sexual innuendo about 4-somes. We laughed at how we had just become "that family" at the hospital. Then the waiting began. Night came quickly. I couldn't sleep. I kept hearing the same mantra, No progress, no progress, no progress. And, we're going to up your pitocin. I started the epidural drip when they started upping the pitocin. I didn't feel anything. Honestly. My mom was in shock. She was halfway pissed off. She had 3 kids with NO medication. It wasn't given out like candy in those days. We all 3 watched my contractions on the screen. MOUNTAINS. Mom would look from the screen, to my face, back to the screen, back to my face. She was in awe. No reaction. We waited some more. Laurel, we need to break your water. You're not progression and we think the baby's not dropping because you have too much fluid. Another doctor came in to break my water. Dr. Mericle. Yup. A baby doctor named Dr. Mericle (pronounced: miracle). The irony is not lost on me. She broke my water. I could tell you a whole blog post on that experience. I won't...I'll save you. Let's just say they were right. The breaking of my water set a new birth center record for that hospital. I almost built an ark.
The night passed. No progress. No progress. No progress.
At some point the next morning, September 19th, something happened. No, not a baby. Not yet. The something that happened is the kind of story you're not supposed to tell. But I'm going to anyways. That's what this blog is, afterall. Telling the stories nobody else will.
Slowly, but surely, my epidural stopped working.
I'm not kidding.
It started slowly. I started to be able to feel one of my legs REALLY well. Like, not kinda tingly, numb, epidural-y. Nope. I could lift it, move it, wiggle it around. I could have hopped on it across the room. The "feeling" sensation creeped up my leg. Then it transferred to the other one. I told the nurse. I'm starting to be able to FEEL. She thought I was nuts. I thought she was a bitch. She was. Because 15 minutes later I'm doing those stupid-ass breathing exercises you learn in birthing class that you're not supposed to have to use at 5cm with an epidural. I was having massive pitocin-induced contractions and I could feel everything. I. COULD. FEEL. EVERYTHING. I lost my mind. I had no patience for anything. My mom was on her phone, Steven was watching T.V. they both were trying to avoid being murderd. They were smart. If I could have reached them I would have killed them for breathing wrong. My mom took on the nazi role. She marched out into the hallway and told them to call the anesthesiologist back. The nurse was ignoring me. I was going to kill anyone within reach. The anesthesiologist came. He believed me, bless his heart. He did something with the dosage and I could BREATHE again. The contraction mountains kept rolling, but I could function.
No progress, no progress, no progress, no progress, no progress, no progress, no progress.
There's this rule in the baby delivery world. 24 hours. That's how long, after your water breaks, you have to get the baby out. I looked at it like the tub was draining and the goldfish wouldn't survive once the last drop was out. I'm pretty sure that's not really how it works. Needless to say, we made it to the 20 hour mark post-water breaking. Mind you, this was 30 hours after our first visit to the hospital AND 29 hours into "labor". FML.
Dr. Barry came into the room. We're going to need to do a C-Section. *Cue birth plan bursting into flames mid-air on the way out of the window* Dr. Barry is not an ob-gyn. She can't perform C-Sections. Dr. MIRACLE will be performing your surgery, but I will be in the operating room to assist. This moment really reinstated my love for my doctor. Any doc-off-the-block would've headed home for the night. Not my doctor. We decided Steven could man-up and handle being in the delivery room. Apparently an operating room is more daunting than 2 tours in Iraq.
Steven got his Halloween costume on (kidding) and we headed down to the O.R. This part got PRETTY blurry. It was loud. *Cue birth plan getting run over by a semi truck*, and painfully bright *birth plan just got shit on by a rabid dog*. Then the drugs kicked in, I felt nothing, except nerves. This was it. Is our baby okay? Is he healthy? Rustling, talking I didn't understand, cold washcloth on my head, then I felt jolting. Not pain, but rigorous jolting. M.D.'s head was stuck (no wonder the little stinker wouldn't drop!) They used the vaccuum. Yes, I'm not kidding. I know this blog is sometimes a "joke" but this is no joke. They used the VACCUUM during a C-SECTION! That was not in the baby book. He was screaming the moment his mouth left my belly. I would too! Phew. Okay, so he has lungs that work. Next, more baby cries, doctor's (supposedly) sewing me back up. Dr. Barry walked over, no baby in hand. PANIC. Then, her smile. He's perfect. He has blonde hair! Then the nurse walked over, holding him, our boy. OH THE TEARS! He really was perfect. Our perfectly little M.D. arrived at 5:01pm on September, 19th 2012. After over 24 hours in labor. 7lbs, 6oz. 21 1/4 inches long. Every bit our little angel.
After this, of course, we had the 1st mommy panic attack. Almost threw up multiple times from the medication (gagging with a brand new incision...thank GOD for pain medications!)Followed, by celebration from our excited visitors who had waited (im)patiently along with us for this moment for the previous 48 hours. I'm pretty sure the entire birthing center waiting room was FULL of our family. You think I'm kidding? I'm not. When M.D. had to go upstairs to get warmed up they went total paparazzi on his cute little butt. Here's one of my favorite shots, since I couldn't be there to see it first-hand.
Then, our visitors came for a meet & greet
And then...it was just us. Our little family that we had just become, instantly.