The 40-Hour Voyage

It was a Wednesday afternoon at work, in my 36th week of pregnancy, and I was getting more (what I thought were) Braxton-hicks contractions which I had been getting in my back for a couple of weeks at that point. I didn't think too much of it, but sure was in a lot of pain. Back contractions aren't a joke. Think of having a really tight lower back that spasms and you can't do anything to loosen up or alleviate. It's wonderful! I would never wish it on my worst enemy (unless the right worst enemy comes along...). I think what kickstarted labor off was a little intimate time with hubby that Tuesday night (I'd gotten BH previously afterwards within the past month).

Anywho, that night, I kept waking up every two hours due to the (what I thought were) BH contractions and to pee. The pee thing was not new. What was new was being woken up with my back essentially feeling like I imagine having lock jaw would but on your lower back multiple times. My hips had really been killing me with round ligament pain for about a month plus at that point, which also made sleeping not fun either -the pillow between the legs only helped so much. But, all in all, round ligament pain and my newfound back contractions were the worst symptoms I had through my entire pregnancy; I was very fortunate, so I find it kinda silly to complain about the last month of pregnancy especially since few to no pregnant women are ache or pain free by 36 weeks. 

I decided to work from home on Thursday because the pain had not gone away once I got up in the morning for work. Before too long, (TMI ALERT!), my mucus plug fell put. Gross. Then, on top of that, the not so BH contractions, but actual contractions started coming about 5-7 minutes apart and lasted for multiple minutes. I called my Ob and they told me to make my way to the hospital. I sounded the alarm to hubby at work, and after some - holy crap, this is really happening moments for both of us, we started to put the game plan in motion. The hospital bag had been packed and in the car for a week (I am overly prepares for most situations and didn't want to have to worry about that should she come early, which seemed to be an actual possibility). I haven't told anyone this, but before I got myself together to go to the hospital, I cleaned up the house and put things away and in their proper places because I knew I would not want to be faced with those when we returned plus one! I felt a little psycho doing it, but kept telling myself that it was the meeting hormones taking over my body. 

Since hubby was in one direction of the hospital by 20 minutes and I was the opposite direction of it by 20 minutes, I decided (yes, I am also bullheaded) that instead of waiting for him to come home, then pick me up and drive back to the hospital, I would drive my laboring back and belly to the hospital. Keep in mind, this was the stupidest thing I did while pregnant because every time a contraction hit, my whole body essentially seized up and being able to move my legs in a reactive fashion for safe driving was very compromised. 

We both got to the hospital almost at the same time and seeing hubby then was such a relief and for him, I think seeing me in labor made everything beyond a doubt real at that point. For the dad it is different - it makes sense. They aren't carrying the child and having their body do and change in weird ways for over 9 months. He giggled nervously about how excited he was, as I walked bent at the waist as a contraction hit, into the hospital. 

When we got up to the Labor and Delivery check in area, they asked us what we were there for, and I admit, I awkwardly said something like, "I think it's time to have a baby!". Then another contraction hit. 

The got me into the admittance area where they put the pre-laboring mom's, got me all hooked up and listened to Baby Girl's and my vitals, put my belly on the contraction monitor and started keeping tabs on my contractions, and asked us a ton of questions. I couldn't believe how kind and calm I was. I think my body and spirit melded into one and I was focused on doing everything I could to get our sweet girl delivered safely and fully healthy. 

I decided long before this that I wanted to try doing my entire labor naturally, but was not wedded to it if I needed an epidural or other medical intervention for the baby's of my safety (mostly hers). 

Well, after getting the cavity search to see how far effaced and dilated I was (2cm only), the on call doctor (who was not from my practice) told me that I was still several hours out from delivering but that they thought I would have a baby sometime in the next couple of days. They suggested that I go home and continue laboring there where I was surrounded by my comfortable environment versus laboring at the hospital. So, in whomp whomp whomp fashion, back we went home. 

I had to let my parents and hubby's mom and my almost Dr. Ob/Gyn sister know that we were still a ways off from baby girl.

This is when time started to just meld into one indecipherable continuum. I believe for the next few hours I tried to nap some, and when sleep was clearly no longer possible due to the frequency and intensity of the contractions, I parked myself downstairs on my exercise ball and alternated trying to rock my hips open and alleviate pain that way, to doing child's pose to laying on my left side on the sofa while watching crap TV that I really didn't care about but kept me company and was a distraction when I couldn't focus on my breath. My yoga practice was immensely helpful for labor - I focused on my ujaii breathing the entire time I was in labor, once I figured out how to breathe through the contractions. I knew I needed to try to eat and drink water to keep my energy and hydration up. The water was okay at this point, but food was just not appetizing and I think I barely had three bites of a defrosted breakfast sandwich (I really craved breakfast foods while pregnant). Around 8pm, I believe I found blood when I went to the bathroom (yes, birthing is a lot of secretions) and the intensity was off the charts compared to anything prior. I was debating calling the Ob again, and hubby wasn't excited to drive me to the hospital only to be turned back home again. However, I felt it was time. The Ob was not so helpful and told me to do what I felt was right -uhh, I just told you this is my first child -how the heck do I know "what is right?!". We also could still be admitted through the regular L&D area before it closed for the night and we'd have to go to the ER. So off we went. 

That car ride. Holy wow. I kept my eyes closed almost the entire way so I could focus on my breathing and not think about "why are we not there yet?!?!", which worked really well. But man, being in a seated position was not fun through those contractions. Just as we created the last hill and the hospital was in viewing distance, I happened to open my eyes. Hooray!! Then I just had to make the walk into the hospital. This time, no giggles, and thankfully, a lot of help from hubby because walking was just not going so well. We got inside, and prideful me said aloud, "I can definitely do the sta---," HELLOOO contraction. NOPE. Elevator it was! I randomly remember an elderly gentleman passing us and smiling at that moment. It's weird what random things remain impressed upon memories of an event.

So into the check in  area we went again. The computer system is so ridiculous that even though I had been entered intonthr system less than 12 hours prior, they had to ask me ALL the same frigging questions again. Ibremained my sweet self, but my ability to speak was severely impaired, and hubby really helped me out here, and even surprised me with how well he had listened to things I had said the first go-round. He also, in protective and "this is so inefficient" mode, inquired as to why we had to do this all over again. After cavity search numero tres, they told me they were going to admit me and that things had progressed quite quickly in the past ten hours. No duh -i could've told them that!

Again, because I was attempting to go naturally, I was assigned a midwife. Shift change happened while we were there, and i was bummed to see the first midwife and nurses leave for the night. However, the night shift midwife I got was phenomenal. At first, both Dan and I were put off by her demeanor, which I thought, upon first blush, was brusque and not at all what a midwife should be. Later on into things, she warmed up to me and my (apparently naturally gifted) ability to birth. She was all business about getting a healthy baby out as naturally as possible in a comfortable manner for me. 

In we went to the bomb diggity birthing room at the hospital, and hubby made sure they got me a ball. Unfortunately, I had tested positive for group B strep and had to start the IV of antibiotics (I did not want to be tethered to anything and my last IV experience left me owe to passing out). They were really good about getting me onto a portable drip bag so I could move and groove because staying prone in a bed was not what I needed at all - in fact laying in a bed HURT. As I feared, the IV didn't take the first time thanks to my beautifully large but rolling veins (which I did warn them of). On a side note, fast forward to post delivery and where the IV was in my arm hurt worse than anything else. 

Night came and then early morning. (Remember, time was a blur). I had an awesome, sweet nurse who, along with my midwife, whisked away the absorbent bed pads as soon as they were sullied. I never felt like there was a lot of blood, but turns out I was a big bleeder, and hubby was a bit concerned (didn't let on to me that I could tell). Once I could no longer get up and move about, the bedrail on the bed became my best friend, and I could only lay on my right side. Fast forward again to post delivery and my shoulders and biceps killed me and I could not figure out why until hubby asked me if I didn't remember almost ripping the bedrail off. He apparently asked the nurse whether I could possibly rip it off - hah! Yay for being a beast! 

My midwife forced me into the bathroom and stood over me to ensure I emptied my bladder to help things along. That was when I felt she took her job a bit too seriously. I knew how to per, albeit, it was quite difficult at that point. 

At some point thereafter, we got to the point of me being close to pushing (aka, active labor). It is true, that at a certain point, you feel like you just need to push. It was the hardest thing NOT to push when instructed to hold off by the midwife (she was looking out for my vijayjay - THANK YOUUU). Now, while you may think this was the point where the midwife took her job too seriously, but this was the point at which I, while unsure of what the hell was happening,  appreciated she was looking out for me. My midwife, Ro was her name, fisted. Yes, fisted, my vijayjay and THEN opened her hand up and swiveled it around to try to loosen me up further to get Baby Girl a comfortable exit point. Then, she told me to push. I informed her that her hand was still up my whoha. She just looked at me and asked me if I wanted to rip or not. Alright. Push I did. 

Thankfully she let me try to push my oneself after that, without her hand as a dam. My water still had not broken at this point and pushing from my abdomin versus my face was easier said than learned, but I got it after a few shouts from Ro that I needed to woman up and do it right. It was surprisingly the right kind of encouragement for me. I wasn't much for holding hubby's hand, and a few times i flung it away, ans apologized to him but said I just needed to grab onto the handrail or kneel over the back of the bed and bear down that way. It was as I was bearing down while holding onto the back of the upright bed back that I asked hubby to confirm my water had just broken. I didn't see his face (he does not do well with blood, especially coming out of a place he prefers to keep as a pleasurable spot in his mind), but his voice was a bit anxious when he told me it was more blood. I guess I was a bleeder...post labor, I believe they gave me a few iron supplements due to how much blood I passed.

Then, finally! My water broke. It was so anticlimactic after everything you see "in the movies." I know, I know- I educated myself. Water doesn't break usually until you're in active labor. I was so excited but so not excited. It was a weird thing to have fixated upon. 

Then, I started losing steam (it had been almost 36 hours at this point, but who's counting?!??). I couldn't move much and every time I needed to push, baby girl kept getting her head stuck on this one piece of my cervix that just wouldn't let her little head pass. So fisted I was over and over again, and told to woman up and push. I began to feel like I was going to pass out during active pushing and Ro told me to stop pushing for the next few contractions. So. Darn. Hard. 

Up to this point, I had remained so hopeful I could get through this without any numbing. I was a beast, remember?? It was at this point that Ro softened up. She told me that we could keep going like this. Possibly for another 4 or 5 hours. My heart sank. I knew I did not have that much gas left in the tank. She then told me alternatively, we could get me an epidural, take a well deserved power nap (hubby, too!), and she would help me deliver the baby before shift change that morning (it was, by this point somewhere around 4am and shift change was 7am). I hadn't much paid attention to the clock up to this point. I did know that I wanted Ro to be the one to help me through this whole process and did not want someone new to take over. I felt safe, comfortable, understood and knew that she was looking out for Baby Girl and me. I trusted her. She had fisted me, after all. You kinda trust someone after they do that in this situation. 

I made the decision. Epidural was up. I was feeling bummed, but got over that quickly because I wanted to get Baby Girl out safely and soon. Up until this point, I had been polite and kind and not even dropped one curse word. Enter the anesthesiologist. Or. More like, wait what felt like an eternity (which was maybe 20 minutes). But when you're in active (back) labor, that is a lot of contractions and pain which I had decided I no longer needed to feel but was still feeling because this dude seemed to be taking his sweet time. I know, they had to order the meds, he had to prep and finish up whatever else he was doing (probably sleeping in the on-call room). 

Finally! He arrived. I don't recall much about him except he seemed rude and condescending. But maybe that's because he informed my hubby and me (we both work in an actual sterile industry) that hubby couldn't be around near my back because he had "sterilized it" (again, I know -for a hospital setting, he had sterilized it). And THEN, when I told him I felt another wave of a contraction about to hit, he just stared at me and said, So? To be fair, he had a point that I was in active labor, but his delivery irked me. He then told me I had to curve over a pillow- at that point, I lost it. If you've been in back labor, you know that curving over your stomach DOES NOT, I repeat, does NOT feel good because your lower back essentially seizes up. He then told me I had to be absolutely still - yeah, duh, don't want to be paralyzed, but F%#$!, I exclaimed!!! I gritted my teeth, and i think may have cried in pain (that's the only time I cried in pain). I could not wait for that dude to get the tube out of me and for him to leave. Thank you for doing your job. Hope you're kinder to your next patient. 

Ahhh...sleep. But first, feeling like I peed myself and it was coldly running down my legs. Yes, that was the epidural. But oh, the sleep was immediate. I think I woke up about an hour later, perky and ready to do this! I called in the nurse and hubby groggily woke up. When I went to turn from my right side to my back, undiscovered that I could not control (i.e. lift) my left leg. Both the nurse and I were puzzled by this since it would make sense for the medicine to have pooled in the leg that was lowest, which was my right leg, not my left. I had an inner moment of panic when I thought that the fears of possible side effects from the epidural I had not wanted were an actuality. Paralysis. Lifetime of pain. Gahhh!

Then, it was all hands on deck. Hubby was in charge of my bum leg, the nurse on my right leg and Ro manned the slide. It felt weird not having the physical cues of the contraction wave ramping up to inform me of the impending urge to push. The epidural deadens all of that natural inclination and the tidal wave. We relied upon the chart readout of the pain intensity and impending crest when I would need to push. I had to relearn how to push from my abdomen in the absence of the physical feeling. But I finally got the hang of it. Ro had to fist me again a few times for good measure, and eventually said she felt a little head and hair. Oh my goodness!! Baby Girl was making progress! That pesky cervix kept giving her problems, and Ro had to help slide it over her head a d eventually, she was able to hook her finger around it and get Baby Girl past it. One hurdle down!!! We were moving. At one point during a break in pushes, towards the beginning of all of this, hubby let go of my left leg and it toppled off of the bed like a dead fish. We all got a good laugh out of that! Side note, my ankle was sore from him gripping me. I suppose he was a bit anxious himself 😉. He later told me, even though he had not wanted to look, he used my leg as a visual shield that he moved away sometimes because it was some pretty amazing stuff, this birthing thing.

Then, Baby Girl was in my pelvic cavity. I heard the nurses and Ro call the on call doctor (again, not from my practice- lame! And more lame, he was the guy who told me to do what I felt was "right" about coming back to the hospital). I didn't become alarmed. Hubby was up by my head when the swarm of doctors and nurses entered the room. They informed us that since she was technically a premier (by one day) they needs the NICU staff there as well. We had what felt like 20 people in the room all of a sudden, including Dr. Do Right. 

I will give the doctor credit that in the action, he was good at his job. He so calmly informed us that Baby Girls heart rate had drastically decreased to double digits (babies heart rates are supposed to be in triple digits) upon entering my pelvic canal and he needed to use the vacuum along with my pushing to get her out STAY. Hubby and I (what felt like) slowly looked at one another and didn't know what to do. I nodded and he nodded along and we said, ooohkay. Out came the vacuum (it was a bright yellow flat thing that inflates once it is secured on the baby's head). It was at this point that I didn't care of I ripped, if I tore something. I wanted to get Baby Girl out. I spoke to her in my mind and through my body and told her I was going to push as hard as I could to minimize her work and the amount of force the doctor would need to apply with the vacuum to pull her out. Then, with a huge inhalation, I pushed until I was out of breath and continued pushing, and ripped (I think) a ligament in my right hip flexor, and then hubby and Ro told me they saw her head. Our little live. My emotions started tumbling around me. But she needed another push to deliver her perfect shoulders. I had to stifle my emotions, and push the tears back and get my head back into it. I pushed one final time and she was here!!!! 

There was no noise. Her body was grayish. Her head was cone shaped from the vacuum. I felt my joy and smile slide off of my face as hubby and I tried to grasp what was happening. Why wasn't she crying??!?!! Why wasn't she red?!??! My baby!!!!!

She was whisked away to the heater table out of my line of sight. Hubby rushed over to her. It was in that moment he became a daddy. I was safe and fine, and she needed him. Then. I heard it. Oh. My baby. I heard you, sweet girl. Daddy got to hold your hand as they took your vitals and took your Apgar scores (you were a 9, so might brag 😆). 

While they took care of you, they finished taking care of me. Ro kept trying to force me to look at the placenta, which is delivered quite roughly (the stomach is like pizza dough being roughly kneaded) to ensure all of it was delivered.  I kept telling her that yes, it is amazing that your body grows a whole new organ while pregnant, but no I didn't want to see it and shut up! I just want to hold and see my baby!! She had to stitch me up on the inside of my vijayjay (TMI, sorry), but my perineum did not too! Hiphiphooray! She really sewed me up tight, too! Still looking out (for me and for hubby 😉).

Everyone asked us what her name was. Hubby looked at me, genuinely speechless, seeking my help to say her name. It was the sweetest, most endearing thing ever. He was full blown in love in a way he has never been before. 

After what felt like an eternity, they brought you over to me and nestled you under my chin, on my chest. I could no longer contain the tears of joy and happiness and love. The love. It is immediate. It is raw, and pure and animalistic. I have never felt something like that ever before. Nothing came compare to that euphoria of falling in love at first sight with this little creature whom I nurtured and carried for 36 weeks and six days; who weighed in at a petite 5 pounds, 4 ounces and 19.inches long with Daddy's BIG but perfect feet. 

Your Daddy told me you had ten fingers and ten toes and were perfect. As you may there, nestled upon me, my sweet, I asked your daddy to shoe me a picture of you because I hadn't seen you yet, my sweet girl, and I did not want to move you - partially because I was petrified of moving your dainty body but mostly because I didn't want the spell to be broken. You were a part of me, but you were now your own unique self. Fully reliant upon me and your daddy to care for you. 

We snuggled for what felt like no time and all time combined. Hours whizzed by and time stood still. You are perfect. Absolutely perfect. I love you always until the end of days, my sweet girl. You were strong in the womb, a fighter at birth, and a fiercely independent, go-getter now. I love you, I love you, I love you.