I was beginning to wonder if perhaps I’d been tricked and my baby wouldn’t be coming for another year or so. It certainly felt like it, anyhow. I’d scoured the do-it-yourself “natural” induction lists and had tried all but a few. And, although I’d promised myself that I would under no circumstances drink castor oil – I began doubting that, too. Fortunately, some very great people persuaded me against that idea seeing as how it could end up doing more harm than good and stimulating some awful contractions, something I had been trying to avoid by NOT inducing with pitocin (and, at least with pitocin I could not be nauseous or sick).
By Sunday (May 3, 2009), I had stocked up on books in an effort to keep my brain busy and relaxed – all at once. I had also done my best to come up with ideas for things to fill my days until labor came on its own.
We’d just left the church picnic, and I was exhausted. It was only 2:30 PM, but it felt like 9PM. I’d been overly tired for a couple of days and figured it was just par for the course – that, and I was tired of getting my hopes up only to be nothing. But, by 7:30 PM I felt sick – without any castor oil, thank you – and by 8 PM I had back cramps and contractions pretty regularly. We ate a Stouffer’s lasagna for supper around 9 PM and then headed for bed. The contractions were still regular, but weren’t getting very intense yet, so I wasn’t banking much on them. The night was filled with on and off again sleep and a lot of me asking Steven to wake up to rub my lower back.
And then at 2:00 AM, I noticed it.
She wasn’t moving. Actually, I couldn’t remember her moving for HOURS. Slightly panicky, I shook Steven’s shoulder, trying to get him to wake up. He groggily got out of bed and poured the rest of the cranberry juice into a glass for me – which, was such a small amount of juice that it could have probably easily fit into a medicine dropper. I laid on my side and drank the juice, waiting and ready to count baby kicks. But there were none. I kept replaying the nurses telling me that during contractions and labor, you SHOULD feel the baby moving…my contractions were steady, and she wasn’t moving…was something wrong? I dialed the hospital nursery and was advised to drink more juice or Sprite – both items we didn’t have. Heck, we didn’t even have brownies! (Although, looking back – I guess I could have eaten straight sugar!)
We packed the remainder of our bags and headed for the hospital, calling my mom on the way so she could meet us there to pick up Lorelei.
On the way, I felt the baby move once (within an hour) and felt my contractions resume the intensity they had been earlier. Possibly slightly stronger. They weren’t hard contractions…they were just uncomfortable and made me slightly breathless as they came and went (yet I could still talk and walk through them, easily).
Once we arrived to the hospital, we were immediately led upstairs and I was hooked to monitors as Steven found a comfy corner with a chair and began to doze off. The baby was okay, just probably asleep. My contractions, on the other hand, were showing up even more consistent than I had thought. So, at 3:00 AM, the doctor on call decided to keep me for observation.
I watched the clock, waiting for a semi-decent time to call my doula. I hadn’t wanted to call her too early just in case it was nothing (again) and figured at least if I looked like a fool with no witnesses, I could pretend it never happened! 6 AM FINALLY rolled around and I made the call. She arrived in record time and even brought breakfast for both Steven and I! Up until this point, I had declined any bloodwork or routine IVs, since I didn’t know whether I was progressing or if I’d be staying. I was given the chance to walk without the monitors for an hour, and Stephanie and I walked the halls as Steven tried to rest. The contractions were still steady, although it felt better to be able to walk. We walked each of the 8 floors and then went back to my room to see if my doctor had come in yet.
She hadn’t, but a nurse checked me and found that I was now 4 cm dilated (an entire cm than before)! My doctor was called and I was given 3 choices:
1. I could be induced with pitocin at this point
2. They could break my waters and I could lay in bed with an IV (so the baby’s cord wouldn’t get in the way)
3. Or, I could go home
I asked if maybe there could be a compromise – if, perhaps I could be monitored at the hospital for another few hours and walk and if my contractions got stronger LATER…like, by 2 pm but I wasn’t progressing enough if THEN we could talk about inducing…just so I wouldn’t be in labor for 2 days straight. My doctor said NO. Induce now or wait until 6 AM the next day. She said she had plans with her husband that evening…and it’d just be unfair to shove it all on a different doctor.
“But…I’m IN labor now. So, even if it takes me forever, the possibility that I’ll be here LATE tonight on another doctor’s watch is pretty high. What’s the difference between them delivering THEN vs. delivering at a decent time with pitocin?”
My doctor was convinced that I wasn’t actually IN labor yet, though and didn’t really think it mattered much. She wasn’t budging.
So, by 10 AM, I’d signed the discharge papers and we left the hospital to rest and shower at my mom’s house while Steph did some things she needed to.
At mom’s, I soon figured out that resting wasn’t really going to work. The contractions had picked up a little and laying down made them feel more intense. At this point, my doctor had already called, concerned by my question to a nurse about whether another hospital would deliver my baby if I didn’t have a doctor, since mine wouldn’t be on call anyhow, and the doctor that WOULD be on call was a man who I didn’t have a positive experience with in the past – the same man who undoubtedly had saved my life 8 years ago, but had also managed to make me feel scared and alone in the process. My doctor told me to come back in and she’d give me lots of choices, but I’m fairly sure she still didn’t grasp exactly what I wanted…. A birth with few interventions (unless necessary) and preferably no pitocin, no epidurals. Just the chance to let my labor progress on its own.
Finally, around noon (ish), I decided I couldn’t lay down any more. I planned to eat lunch at McAllister’s and walk around the mall ( air conditioned and with MANY distractions) to see if my contractions would pick up some. We had no sooner entered the parking lot before the contractions had picked up even more, and I was ready to just eat in the car. With a little prodding, though, my mom and Steven had me at the counter ordering my meal.
“For here or to go?” the cashier asked.
“We’ll start with here, but we’ll probably end up ‘to go’”
He just looked at me funny…and confused.
“I’m in labor. Things might get interesting.” I said, holding onto the counter
“OH. Umm…”
(That’s right, buddy. Be scared. Very scared. Bwahahahaha)
I asked mom to find a booth with lots of padding and away from PEOPLE. She found a booth…right next to people. (In her defense, there weren’t any away from people and the booth was bolted down, so moving it to the bathroom would’ve been near impossible. Unfortunately.)
The contractions kept coming, each one lasting a little longer and harder it seemed. I had been timing them just right so I could eat a bite in between…but apparently I misjudged one and found myself with a mouthful of basil chicken panini and trying to ride out a contraction.
“Just Breathe in through your nose and out your mouth” my mother cooed.
I eyed her, annoyed, wondering if I should “breathe” out the chicken sandwich in her direction but instead clamped my mouth shut as I tried to breathe in and out of my nose.
That’s when the manager chose to stop by our table to ask if everything was okay. My mom and Steven tried to nod him hurriedly away, but he didn’t look so sure as he looked at my red face and bulging eyes, my white knuckles grasping the table. I would guess I looked like an angry bull …or like I was choking and nobody was helping. He walked away a lot faster than he came.
Suddenly, the entire restaurant seemed to be aware that something weird was going on. The pregnant chick in the corner was acting really really weird…and so, naturally…they all wanted to look…stare…and see.
I gave up on the sandwich. I’d eaten half and waited just long enough for a to go box for the other half (for Steven) and half ran out the door…as much as a huge pregnant woman could run/waddle, that is.
Back inside the car, I noted how stupid of an idea it was to walk the mall. So, we headed back to mom’s house – I thought maybe we could put a movie on (which I may or may not watch) and use the birthing ball and maybe even the tub and such.
I made it up the driveway and inside…and barely to the bathroom and back. The contractions were MUCh stronger now. Requiring me to stop and hold something and these brought either moans or tears (or both) with them. Mom and Steven outvoted me and decided we needed to go back to the hospital. So, we called Steph again about our 3rd change in plans and she met us there. Upon arrival, I was 5-6 cm dilated.
Then, I kind of lose concept of time. I know we sat together watching my contractions on the screen, while Stephanie and mom and Steven held my hands and rubbed my feet as they got more and more intense. I remember them playing my music, and getting Stadol which made me feel goofy and the contractions slightly less intense. I remember changing into different positions: kneeling, squatting, sitting.
By 6pm, I was 7 cm.
My doctor had already left and the on-call doctor, Dr. C came into the room. He made it very clear that he didn’t “DO” birth plans and wanted to know what my plan was.
Um…to have a baby? What else do you say to that when you took the time to write out some of the specific things you wanted and didn’t all in a handy and somewhat humorous format?
He suggest we break my water to get things going…
6:50 pm, they broke my waters.
The contractions began to get even MORE intense and I asked for another round of Stadol. This time, though, it didn’t make things funny – it made me confused. The contractions came hard, one on top of another and I barely found time to breathe and couldn’t stay grounded in my thoughts. In fact, my thoughts began fleeting and I couldn’t keep up with conversations to or around me.
“Ooooooooh. No. I can’t do this anymore…” I moaned.
“You can. You will. You have to, Ash…” Steph said, her hands around my face and hair.
I was ready to be done, begging to be finished. My concentration kept going in and out like waves. Words bounced through my head, not sticking together, losing their meaning.
The baby. Her heart rate. Something was wrong. Turn this way. No, that way. This way again. Move. Breathe.
My mind slipped in and out as everyone but me watched the screen with Aurora’s heartbeat waxing and waning through my contractions.
An oxygen mask was fitted over my nose and mouth in an attempt to slow down my breathing. The pain was intense and I no longer had any control. The waves of contractions were drowning me and as much as I tried to fight through the pain, it overwhelmed me and my body began pushing against my will. I struggled to keep up with it, and to stay awake and coherent.
By 8 PM, I was 8 centimeters. My entire body tightened with each contraction, unable to relax. I could feel my legs trying to cross themselves, trying to hold off. My teeth clenched together through each surge.
Then, Dr. C came back in. He told me I had 2 choices. I would either receive an epidural or I’d get a C-Section. Period.
My body and mind were too tired to fight. I hadn’t wanted an epidural, I had been SO against it – but I hadn’t imagined labor lasting for so long or my baby being in possible danger. And, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could deal with the pain. So, I chose epidural.
By 8:35 PM, I was still 8 cm and the epidural was being prepped. At that point, I was allowed only one person in the room and I chose Steph, my doula. Everyone else had seemed to fade into the background for the most part. Bob, the anesthesiologist had me sit, regardless of whether I was experiencing a strong contraction AT THAT MOMENT or not. Then, move to the edge of the bed….
Soon, it was finished, and I lay back, waiting for the medicine to be adjusted. Waiting for the numbness to take over my body, forcing it to relax.
Within minutes, I was fully dilated and told to push. And, besides the fact that I could feel NOTHING, I did my best. I asked for a mirror as the nurse tried to coach me through pushing towards a place I couldn’t even feel and I gritted my teeth, hoping to God that I was pushing at all, much less in the right area. I watched their faces as they got excited and would take another deep breath and grit my teeth some more. I’m still not sure I was even doing anything, but something worked.
At 9:39 PM, Aurora Madeline Grace was born.
6.75 lbs and 19.5 in long
Welcome sweet girl…we’re so glad you’re here.
*Note 1: I have decided that men should be required to first grow a vagina as a prerequisite to become an OB/GYN or to be allowed to be an anesthesiologist for laboring women.
*Note 2: I am so thankful for my mom, Steven, and Steph – without you, I would have still probably had Aurora…but I’d probably have gone crazy first. Thanks for keeping me sane and for making me feel like the most loved lady on Earth. I love each of you.
*Note 3: Thanks dad for watching Miss L. I appreciate it.
), and my garden is growing. The pool, unfortunately, is also lusciously green.
