On Sunday, July 25, 2010 I woke up having contractions at about 6:00 a.m. {37 weeks) This was not unusual for me as I had been having painful contractions for weeks. After getting up to use the restroom, I crawled back into bed to try to get a little more sleep. An hour passed and I woke up every few minutes to contractions. It was then that I decided to wake up Scott. He was a little worried, but I assured him that they didn’t seem to be any worse than the other contractions I had experienced up to that point.
As we lay in bed, Scott was helping me through each contraction and he started to time them (without me knowing). After timing a few of them, he informed me that the last few were about 5 minutes apart and that we needed to get to the hospital. I wasn’t quite convinced. My biggest fear was going to the hospital only for them to tell me, “If you think that is labor, you are going to die when you see what is in store for you!”
At this point, I was very confused. I had been told by many people that when you are in labor ‘you’ll know it’. Yet, I felt so uncertain. When each contraction was over, I felt good as new! In my mind, I kept thinking that there was no way that I could feel ‘good’ for any part of labor—so this must not be it! I continued to drag my feet.
Finally, I voiced my feelings to Scott—“I don’t think I’m really in labor because I feel fine once the contraction is over.” He responded by saying that perhaps I should text Chelsea (our sister-in-law) to ask her about it. After sending the text, I immediately received a phone call from her. She asked me how I was feeling and about my symptoms. I discussed them with her and my fear of going to the hospital only to have them turn me away. She recommended that we go for a walk around the block. If the contractions worsened, I would know it was real labor. To me, this sounded like a great plan. I got off the phone and informed Scott that we were going to take a walk around the block—after I showered.
I asked Scott to shower with me because the contractions were getting pretty intense and I wanted him to support me if/when I had one while I was getting ready. After being in the shower for about 2 minutes I began to realize that the contractions were much stronger than they had been before and that I was no longer able to ‘talk through’ them. With a little encouragement from Scott, we decided that the walk wasn’t going to happen and we would just head straight to the hospital.
Scott ran around tying up loose ends while I put on clothes and braided my wet hair. At that point, I was in no mood to get all dolled up as I had originally intended. When he was done loading the car, Scott came in to find me trying to pull up our sheets and make our bed while having a contraction. He sweetly tried to usher me out the door but I stubbornly refused. All I could think about was bringing my baby home to a messy house and the bed seemed to be the only thing that I had complete control over {the logical side certainly seems to come out when you are in labor}.
The next few minutes were a blur. Scott tried to help me through each painful contraction while keeping one eye on the road and one hand on the steering wheel. I remember asking him to call my mom {who was in church at the time} to tell her I was in labor and we laughed about what their response would be when they got the voicemail.
On any given day Scott seems to always be fairly in tune with what I need/want. But, this day, he just said and did all the right things. I can’t believe how composed he was and, unlike the stereotypical woman in labor, I was singing his praises and didn’t want him to leave my side for anything.
By the time we got off the freeway, my contractions were 3 minutes apart and getting much more intense. As I began seeing flashes of me delivering the baby in the car, I started begging Scott to please get me to the hospital where there were doctors, nurses and drugs {but most importantly, drugs!}. We arrived to the hospital around 11:00 a.m., parked, waited for my contraction to end and then made our way toward labor and delivery.
There is something unnerving about how calm all those nurses are. We walked into the station full of them. They looked up from their ‘Sunday Crosswords’ as if I was interrupting their peaceful morning activity. The receptionist closest to me asked, “Are you in labor?” as I tried my hardest to put a smile on during an oncoming contraction. There was a part of me that wanted to scream, “WOULD I BE HERE IF I WASN’T IN LABOR?!” but then my logical sense kicked in and I realized that these fine people have access to the drugs {ah, the drugs}. So, I let Scott field the question with an uncertain, “We think so.”
She took my name and our doctor’s name only to realize that our preregistered information was not in the system as it should have been. Because of this, she handed Scott a form to fill out which he did with a very unsteady hand. {“Is this an 8 or a….?”} When the paperwork was complete {and several contractions later} the nurses decided it would be a great time to begin figuring out what room they should take me to. They took me in, gave me a gown, told me to change and said that they would be back in a few minutes. The nurse came in after what seemed like forever to check me. Sure enough, I was dilated to a 5 and almost completely effaced {at our appointment 4 days earlier I was at a 3 and 75% effaced}. She seemed almost shocked as she confirmed that I was in fact, in labor.
When we realized that we weren’t going to be leaving without a baby in hand, Scott decided to run to the car to get my pillow and hospital bag with all of the things we had prepared {ironically, the night before}. He came back in and sat by me as he watched each contraction come and go on the monitor. I was surprised when the nurse, after hooking me up asked if I wanted to have my epidural right away. I had always anticipated that they would make me suffer through labor on my own for some ‘magical’ amount of time before offering it. I was even more shocked when my response was, “Ugh, I don’t know.” I looked at Scott for help in responding. Though each contraction was difficult, I felt that I was doing pretty well. I had heard that the epidural was the worst part and, since I seemed to be okay, the thought came that maybe I should just stick with what pain I already knew. Thankfully, Scott brought me back to reality when he said to the nurse, “I think you want one.”
Because the anesthesiologist was in a C-section, I didn’t get my epidural until a little after 1:00 p.m. I couldn’t have asked for a better doctor. He talked me through the entire thing and was so encouraging and comforting. The numbing shot was the most uncomfortable part. All I remember was hearing the ‘pop’ as the needle entered my spine and within seconds, all the pain disappeared. Before leaving, the doctor assured me that he could adjust the dosage if need be and that he would come in to check on me {which he did a couple of times}.
Immediately following my epidural, another doctor came in to break my water {about 1:20 p.m.}. He told me that I was still measuring the same as when I had come in {5 cm and completely effaced} but that breaking my water should really kick things into high gear—and boy, did it ever! Scott and I watched the monitor as my contractions became so much more intense and very close together. I wasn’t feeling a thing and it almost became a game to see how high the line could go. During this pain-free time I got on the phone and called our next door neighbor to cancel a camp committee meeting I had planned for that afternoon {“Hi Sister Ward! So, I was wondering if you would mind letting the camp committee know that we won’t be having a meeting today. I’m in labor and I probably won’t be done by 2.}, talked to my mom and dad for about a half hour {“Yep, I’m in labor. It is kind of boring. We’re just hanging out.”}, and we watched part of a tv show on the laptop.
An hour later, about 2:30 p.m. my nurse came in to check me. I was dilated to 8 cm. She told me she would come back in about 30 minutes to check on me again.
{During this time my parents, brother and sister-in-law came to the hospital and were out playing card games in the waiting room.}
Around 2:50, I started to feel every contraction again and LOTS of pressure. I knew that my body was telling me that it was time to push. As the pain/pressure increased I kept pushing the button hooked to my epidural to give me more medication but nothing seemed to work. I thought about calling the nurse but didn’t want to be one of those ‘whiney’ patients and, since she was going to be coming back in another 10 minutes, I tried to just breathe through the contractions.
By the time she got there she checked me and said, “You are ready to push!” She then prepped some things in the room and we went through a few ‘practice pushes’. The next thing I knew, Scott was holding one leg, the nurse the other, and I was pushing with every contraction.
I couldn’t believe how much relief I felt from pushing. Though it was much more exhausting than I thought it would be, it provided great relief from the intense pressure. While pushing, however, I began to get frustrated. I wasn’t getting much feedback from the nurse on the progress I was making and I seemed only to be wearing myself out. Scott tried to encourage me by telling me that I was making progress and that each contraction was getting me that much closer. All I kept thinking was, “Where the heck is the doctor that is supposed to be delivering this baby?!”
After an hour and a half of pushing, the doctor showed up. I’ll never forget him. Because it was the weekend, he was the on-call doctor from the clinic. He came in wearing his scrubs with nothing underneath {loved the chest hair peaking out of his v-neck top} and a flat gold-chain necklace that went perfectly with his mustache, glasses and bald head. With a look like that, it was as if he had just come from the 1980’s delivery room that I was born in. At that point, however, I would have taken just about anyone who knew how to get this child out of me.
While I continued to struggle through each contraction {feeling exhausted and unable to push one more time} Dr. Christensen sat and filled out paperwork on the couch at the end of my bed looking up only briefly with each contraction to look at the progress being made. {When I remarked that I couldn’t push anymore because I was too tired, he almost got smacked for saying, “Nah, you’ve got a lot more in you.” He was out of range. Darn.} Finally, Dr. “Bombdigity” decided that it was worth him getting up and he told me that with one more push I’d have the head out. The nurse called an entire team of nurses into the room for the baby. With the next push, the head came and they told me to slow down. With one final push, our little man finally arrived. The cord was wrapped once around his neck and he was turned slightly during delivery, but other than that, everything went beautifully.
I saw his tiny little quivering face as they lifted him up and heard his cries as I laid back in exhaustion. Scott cut the cord and they placed my beautiful baby boy on my chest. I kissed his head, wrapped my arms around his tiny little body and looked at Scott as we both cried with the overwhelming happiness, joy, and relief we felt that our long-awaited little boy had finally arrived.
Scott stepped off to snap some pictures {at my request} as they weighed the little guy, measured him and wiped him down. I watched them from a distance as they finished taking care of me {hooking me up to pitocin, pushing on my stomach, etc.}.
Before I knew it, the room was quiet and I was left with my two boys.
1 comment:
I've always wonder about the story thank you for sharing it.
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