Labor Day

Having an induction date is absolutely bizarre.  For one thing, you have a pretty good idea of your baby’s birthdate.  Yes, there was a chance I could have gone into labor spontaneously, but I had never even felt anything I could identify as a contraction (I’m still not sure I ever really even had Braxton-Hicks).  At my 37 week appointment, I was dilated maybe one centimeter.  For this induction, we’d be starting from scratch.  

Because we knew it’d be a long process, they had me come in at 8 that night - so again, we spent an entire day knowing the baby would likely be born in the next 48 hours.  I hadn’t been particularly emotional throughout the pregnancy, but the nerves and adrenaline wreaked havoc on my emotions that day.  I cried several times, and also had random shakes once or twice.  I imagine the stress from my unstable blood pressure didn’t help.  

You always hear about women nesting and cleaning right before the baby comes, but since I wasn’t ready to go into labor yet I’d had no such feelings.  A few days before my induction, my brain finally kicked in and I had the energy and desire to Clean All the Things.  Unfortunately, right about then my blood pressure went wonky and I was told to take it easy.  Thankfully, my husband, the Yeti, helped out a lot so I didn’t go insane with not being able to do everything.  I also got a haircut the day before the induction - good thing, because at 4 months I still haven’t gotten another one (it’s on the list).

The hospital was quiet when we arrived, which wasn’t really a surprise.  When I moved to the area, I knew I’d want to get pregnant soon so I actually worked in reverse - I found a hospital I liked, then chose an OB/GYN practice from their list of doctors with privileges.  This hospital was small and quiet and very natural-labor friendly.  The hospital was more of a campus than one monolithic building.  The maternity ward (they called it the birth center) was in a freestanding building, so it wasn’t, for lack of a better term, a germy place.  They encouraged skin-to-skin and breastfeeding.  

Because of my blood pressure issues, it was recommended I have an epidural - but to be honest, I would have wanted one anyway.  It may seem a little odd that I was having a planned induction and epidural, but still looked for the crunchiest hospital I could find - in fact, I’m pretty sure I was the only one that night that didn’t go all-natural.  All I can say is that before I got pregnant, I wasn’t sure what interventions I’d want or need, but I wanted the option of being as natural as was appropriate.  I didn’t labor in a tub, but the room had one.  And the breastfeeding and skin-to-skin was important to me.  

I still read people all the time who claim that without exception, a hospital birth is a sterile (in the bad sense) and soulless experience, and the doctors and nurses will ignore you and your wishes and check their watches and laugh at your birth plan.  That wasn’t my experience at all.  I didn’t write out a birth plan, though - I figured I was best off if I was prepared for anything, including a c-section.  

So on Monday night, it was quiet, just as it had been through most of the NSTs I’d had.  We checked in, and the doctor came and checked me.  Still the same, still 1 cm dilated, like the week before.  They gave me the Cervidil and told me it might make me cramp, or it might even kickstart labor.  They put in the stuff for the IV in case I needed it later and left us for the night.  

Well, sort of.  They also took my blood every four hours and checked my blood pressure intermittently.  This was a pain, because my veins are deep-set and roll.  I got used to sleepily telling the blood tech every time, just in case. 

The cramping increased throughout the night, but it didn’t seem to come and go like contractions.  Occasionally I asked the Yeti if he saw any on the printout (I was also hooked up to monitors like the NSTs).  He didn’t.  The baby’s heart rate was nice and steady, though, and listening to it was as comforting as feeling him kick (which he did almost constantly).  

At 9 in the morning, I was in considerable pain.  The doctor came in and checked out the situation.  That cervix check was the most painful it’d ever been, and I still don’t know why - maybe my pain tolerance was already worn down?  Maybe it was because I was half asleep?  At any rate, it was miserable.  I was three centimeters dilated.  They started the pitocin and broke my water.  

However, there was soon a problem.  Unrelated to everything else, the blood tests had revealed that my platelets were dropping, a bad, pre-ecclampsia-related sign.  The decision was eventually made to start me on magnesium, which is an anti-seizure med that they give you with pre-ecclampsia.  I didn’t officially have it, but it was more of a “safe than sorry” measure.  

In retrospect, it did help my anxiety a little - no point in worrying about pre-e since they’re already doing all they would anyway.  But the mag was a pain.  It gives hot flashes and just generally makes you feel foggy and crappy.  It’s at this point that my timeline gets a little unclear, and it’s probably at least partially from the meds.  

I went with the narcotic pain med at first - I wasn’t sure if there was some time limit with the epidural (in retrospect, why didn’t I just ask?  Don’t be afraid to ask, people).  Food wasn’t restricted, so I chowed down on some french toast with sugar-free syrup and promptly threw it back up.  The Yeti isn’t super-squeamish, and he’s seen me at my worst, but I had still tried to protect him from my constant vomiting throughout 20 weeks of morning sickness.  I actually succeeded, but I wound up throwing up at least three times in labor - and guess who kindly held the bowl up to my face every time?  

I was still shaking every so often, and I think that was the adrenaline and nerves.  I knew to expect it, but it, too, was annoying.  The pain medication really took the edge off, but you can only have so much, and after a few hours it was time for the epidural.  

Getting the epidural wasn’t bad at all, probably because I was already on pain meds.  I focused very hard on sitting absolutely still.   Unfortunately, the anesthesiologist had trouble placing it - I kept feeling the pressure a little bit to the right side, instead of right in the middle.  I have no idea how many times I got poked, but at one point the nurse suggested we take a break.  I insisted I was fine (I really was), and he got it placed.  In retrospect I wonder if that was a mistake. 

A few (many?) hours later, I started to feel pain in one specific spot.  It was vaguely where my left ovary might be.  Just that one little spot, so it was easy to ignore at first.  It got more insistent, and I envisioned a hole that was slowly growing.  

The anesthesiologist was called back in, and they did tests with bags of ice.  At first, I was still totally numb, so it was a mystery.  After awhile, it seemed I was maybe getting feeling back in patches.  They had me roll to one side, to the other.  They bumped up the juice.  No dice.  I was in more and more pain.  The nurse (the only one I wasn’t a fan of the entire time) suggested maybe I was feeling pressure and couldn’t differentiate it from pain.  It sure felt like pain, but at the time it seemed like it might have some logic.  The anesthesiologist just seemed annoyed, and he was about to end his shift.  Eventually he gave up and left, and I wasn’t sorry to see him go. 

Meanwhile I was still in pain.  Rolling had helped temporarily, but soon the same patch was back, and then other random parts as well.  This time it was clearly corresponding to the contractions on the monitor; I could feel the beginning and ending a few seconds before the monitor.  

At my 36-week appointment, a quick peek at the ultrasound had revealed the baby was facing backwards, or sunny-side up.  Now I wonder if he was spinning around in labor, because the horrible pain seemed to move from the front patch, to my back for a few contractions, then back up front again.  The contractions were only a minute or so apart.   One of the nurses seemed adamant that I must be close to pushing, so she checked my cervix.  Still only three centimeters dilated.  Exactly the same.   

At this point, I started getting upset.  I was afraid of the pain.  I was afraid it would cause my blood pressure to freak out and... what, I’m not sure, but something bad.  I was afraid the pain I was feeling was due to placental abruption, something else I was at risk for.  Eventually I voiced this fear, and they assured me I was fine and they’d know if that happened (don’t be afraid to ask, people).  I was afraid I’d have to give birth feeling everything.  Pretty much the only birth plan I’d had was to not feel everything.  Also, there were women giving birth naturally all around me and I’d been listening to them; I was not mentally prepared for that. 

The new anesthesiologist came in (so it must have been 7 pm at this point).  She tried some of the same techniques, to no avail.  Eventually, one of the nurses let me know that a new epidural was an option, and I said I wanted it.  One of the other nurses (the one I didn’t like) had disparagingly said earlier, “You don’t want to be as numb as a brick so you can’t even push,”  but at that point that was exactly what I wanted.  The new anesthesiologist sprang into action.  There was no poking around this time - she got it placed pretty much immediately. Sweet, sweet relief.  The nurse I hadn’t liked had also left with the 7pm shift change, and been replaced with a nice, friendly girl, and suddenly life was better in general.  The woman next door finally gave birth (I think she’d been pushing for hours) and that was sweet to hear.  Maybe half an hour later they checked my cervix and I was seven centimeters!  I think finally getting that good epidural allowed my body to relax enough to do its thing.  

In no time at all I was nine centimeters, then fully dilated, so we started to do what was described to me as “laboring down” or “practice pushes.”  Here’s where the epidural surprised me: I really felt no pain at all (so I guess I was numb as a brick).  However, I did feel the urge to push... somehow.  I can’t quite explain the sensation, or even how I knew what it was, but I did.  I’d feel that strange tugging somewhere in my torso and I’d say, “Is it time to push?”  The nurse would glance at the monitor and say “Yep!” and I’d push.  The doctor (my OB, actually, which was nice) was sitting on the side of my bed, and the nurse, the doctor, the Yeti and I chatted in between contractions.  

I’d taken barre classes before getting pregnant, and I kept thinking of their ab exercises, pushing from my core.  Apparently it was very effective - but again, while I knew it was work, and I could feel my muscles working, I didn’t feel pain.  

After a few minutes two or three more nurses entered the room.  One of them asked the doctor if she should convert the bed into the labor table, and the doctor calmly said, “I don’t think we’ll have time for that.”  Later the Yeti also told me she said something like, “I’ve got my hand on his head” or something along those lines, but I didn’t hear it (remember, I was foggy-brained, too).  The nurses swiftly put out a tarp, but it didn’t feel like an emergency, just efficient.  

A few more calm pushes and - he was out.  All the stress of the pregnancy and the induction gave way to a perfectly calm and easy labor.  They asked if I wanted to delay bathing and do skin-to-skin, and in my dazed state I just said, “Sure.”  The Yeti kindly stepped in and firmly said, “Yes, she does.”  He’d listened to me going on about the benefits of skin-to-skin and delayed bathing.  Meanwhile I had a small warm person on my chest.  It was just after 10 pm.

An aside: I will continue to sing the praises of an effective epidural til the cows come home.  I’d heard delivering the placenta was worse than labor, but I didn’t even know it’d happened. I didn’t feel any of the stitching that was happening.  I’d had a catheter, but I didn’t feel it go in or out.  And those later cervix checks were painless too.  If I have another baby, there are some things I'd prefer to not experience again if at all possible - an induction that early, the magnesium - but the epidural is right at the top of the Would Do Again list. 

Back to the baby, code named Winston (as in Churchill): I just stared at him at first.  I’d wanted a baby for years, and now here he was and I wasn’t quite sure what to do with him.  I hadn’t gotten around to taking classes, assuming I’d been around babies before and would know what to do.  Well, the fragility of a newborn is pretty terrifying, plus I do think the magnesium contributed to my dazed state.  But we figured it out together, me, him, and the Yeti.  I think we hung out skin-to-skin for almost an hour, just as I’d hoped we would, and then the Yeti gave him his first bath.  

He was an even six pounds.  I’m not sure if my blood pressure made him so small, or if I would have given birth to a smaller baby anyway - and of course he was two weeks early.  Apparently he managed to face the right way before coming out, but he had his hand up by his face.  After I heard that, I winced and said, “What’s the damage?”  A second degree tear, evidently.  Maybe it was a good thing he was so small.  

It was Tuesday night.  I’d wind up staying in the hospital til Friday, thanks to more blood pressure issues.  But recovery is a post for another day; for now we have the story of the beginning of my little fur family, after a labor full of fear and peace, interventions and instinct, love and love. 

One hand out of the swaddle, as always