My contractions started at 3:00AM on July 4th. Despite being incredibly strong and lasting one to two minutes of time, the intervals between contractions were very inconsistent. We attempted to leave for the hospital twice before 10am, but the contractions would stop as soon as we got close. I didn't want to be turned away or have labor induced before I was ready. John was exhausted from scuba diving and being sunburned. Finally around 4:30pm, we decided to go to Triage to see what was happening with my dilation before we took the six hour drive back to Georgia. After giving us a hard time about traveling when I was overdue, they determined that I was in labor at 4-5 centimeters.
I did not spend very long in Triage. A nurse checked my dilation and hooked me up to a couple monitors that showed my heart rate and blood pressure, the baby's heart rate, my blood oxygen level, and the strength of my contractions. She also threaded my IV but botched it up until someone could help her, resulting in my wedding ring appearing to be comprised of rubies instead of diamonds. I was not on any medications, so I was dealing with a lot of pain during the contractions. Between the pain and fear, John managed to make me laugh. During painful contractions, he rubbed my back and checked my "score." He'd exclaim "New high score!" if the new contraction was stronger than any prior contraction. He also monitored my blood pressure as he found little ways to annoy me like snapping my hair band I was wearing on my wrist. His silliness really made the pre-epidural phase much more bearable. My uterus was very posterior, causing painful back labor. A resident started an ultrasound to determine the size of our little one, but stopped after she messed up measuring the head circumference twice. The next 18 hours may have been a lot different if she had done the ultrasound correctly.
Six hours later, I was feeling awesome with my epidural and IV allowing my body to contract and push without me feeling it, was 7 centimeters dilated, and was talking and laughing with John's parents, his sister, and my brother all in the delivery room (leaving whenever I needed to be checked of course). The doctor asked to break my water and induce contractions with Pitocin. I was hungry and tired so I agreed to try to speed up labor. By 4am, I had been at 9cm for a couple hours and wasn't dilating further. John's parents went home for a nap, John's sister was still eagerly watching my contractions monitor like the stock market, and John and my brother were taking frequent naps between visits from the nurses. I had an epidural window in my back, which meant I was feeling the full strength of the contractions in one spot. Around 6AM, an anesthesiologist gave me powerful pain relief. I fell asleep for forty minutes, but it felt like 4 hours. I woke as a nurse discovered bleeding and was getting a second opinion to determnine if the placenta was pulling away. As they determined that he was not in danger, I heard a brief slowing of his heart rate on the monitor. They took me off the Pitocin to not stress my little one. I was so scared, I just sobbed desperately.
After I felt comfortable that he was alright and his heart rate continued to be strong, I was introduced to the doctor with the day shift. I did not like her from the very beginning. After she introduced herself, she explained that she wanted to perform a c-section because I had been at 9 centimeters for a long time. I was well aware that it was taking a long time; I was exhausted and starving. I wanted more justification. She was also really rude to the resident because he had "only three years of experience." The resident explained to me that the baby was in a bad position but his position could still change. After they "discussed" my case outside of the room, the doctor agreed to let me push and told me that it should be possible because we were only expecting a 6.5 to 7 pound baby. I was shocked dumb. I wanted to say that there was no way he was that small, but then I didn't want to be wrong. I had seen a lot of pregnant women larger than myself and I had never been pregnant before. He felt really long to me, he was 14 ounces at 20 weeks, and he was a week overdue, so I was expecting 8.5 pounds.
My first attempt at pushing began when I complained that I was extremely uncomfortable from feeling the need to push out a bowel movement. My pain relief had mostly worn off, so they paged an anesthesiologist as I started pushing. I pushed and pushed, but was in too much pain to push effectively. One of the nurses said she had seen him crown, but none of the other nurses, doctor, or resident had seen it. He wasn't moving despite my pain. I begged for more drugs, then admitted defeat to have a c-section. Nurses then discovered a kink in my IV and the anesthesiologist finally arrived. By that point, I was too swollen and he still wasn't going anywhere. I waited two hours to be prepped for the c-section and spent a majority of that time pushing.
John's sister told me to smile for a picture as I was being transported to OR, but all I could do was cry. After 18 hours of labor, I felt that I had failed. I've never broken a bone or had major surgery so I was terrified. The drugs gave me the shivers. I could feel tugs, but not pricks. I was thankful to have John there on the same side of the curtain. They worked urgently, cutting down quickly and sawing at me in all different directions. John kept his composure, though he admitted later that he was thinking "What are you doing to her!?" Less than five minutes into surgery, all the doctors exclaimed "That's a big baby" and I heard a light cry that stopped shortly. I immediately asked if I could see him and how big he was. Suddenly, a spot of liquid leaped over the curtain onto my neck. I asked the doctor who was monitoring my side of the curtain to remove my blood off my neck. A doctor on the other side responded that it was my baby's, from the placenta. They began sewing me up and they placed him on the scale. 9 pounds, 8.4 ounces. I then saw why he kept pausing and resuming his cries. Whenever the doctor held him close to his face, he'd automatically stop crying. I wasn't able to hold him because of the drugs causing my arms to shake, but John held him close so I could kiss his forehead. The doctors were surprised by his long fingers, long nails, and long body. They also said he was cute, but I'm sure they always say that. I think he's adorable. He had a light bruise on his forehead from my pushing him into my pelvic bone. During all that labor, he didn't go anywhere because he was too big to get past my pelvic bone. That would have been nice to know earlier.
A week later, we're both healthy and I am handling my c-section recovery very well. I feared that breastfeeding would be difficult after a c-section, but breastfeeding has actually helped me recover. Carrying and positioning my large baby has caused my core muscles harmed by the c-section to strengthen and heal. My scar is very clean and low, and breastfeeding causes contractions that are healing me on the inside. I am loving breastfeeding, but will be very happy when I reach 3 weeks and can begin giving him pumped milk from a bottle. John and I deserve a date night, complete with sushi and wine.
