[Content: tmi, medical, childbirth, needles in various forms, hospital, blood]
So the story of The Kid being born, I'm going to start the day before, on May 1.
I had an appointment with the midwife, and omfg was I RIPSHIT. Basically any time any of the super-nice nurses asked "oh how are you doing" all I could do was growl-whine "I'M NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE HERE". Which they took in stride and agreed with me, so that helped. I hurt, I was tired, I felt like crap, I was DONE DONE DONE.
I'd been having contractions off and on for a month by this point. Never mind the fact that, as I mentioned in a previous post,
I was at higher risk of delivering early. So at this appointment, they wanted to perform a
non-stress test, since I was at 41 weeks and 1 day, also known as "post-dates". Did I have contractions during the NST? OF COURSE NOT. But The Kid looked fine, more or less. There was one small, non-emergency finding that prompted my midwife to schedule an ultrasound for the next day, May 2, but that was it.
I was asked if I wanted a vaginal exam. I seriously thought about it, but declined. I figured if there were any changes from the last one, it would get my hopes up so far and then if nothing happened I'd be in even worse shape mentally, and if there were no changes, it would just feed the brainweasels telling me that I would be pregnant forever.
Seriously. Those brainweasels were all about telling me a, that everything was the WORST, and b, that I would just be pregnant forever, la la la, and that's fine, let's start thinking about what that will look like and what I'll need to change in my life to account for that, doop de do. I would tell The Man that I would be Pregnant Forever, and my voice would be that kind of cheerful rational that you know is actually not at all cheerful or rational, and is in fact a little scary.
But I was going to be Pregnant Forever, so FINE.
The midwife asked me if I wanted to talk about induction. I said to her "well I assume you won't let me go past 42 weeks anyway" at which point she breaks in and says oh no, if everything looks fine, they'll let me go past 42 weeks, at which point I broke in and said "Okay well
I do not want to go past 42 weeks". I know that in my
birth plan I had said I'd want to go past, but by this point I was so fucking constantly uncomfortable, if not in outright pain from my hips, and so sick of everything, and so upset basically all the time, that it wasn't worth it to me to not be induced.
So we scheduled an induction, for the next Wednesday, at 42 weeks, and I went home.
That night, we go to bed. Now, weeks ago, at the advice of a friend (HI BRIGID), I'd bought a waterproof pad and put it under my side of the bed. There was a plasticky backing to it, so it kind of crinkled and was hot to sleep on, but I hadn't gotten rid of it. Which was good, because about quarter after 1, I turned off the light, rolled over, and oh SHIT that was DEFINITELY my water breaking uh wow yeah that is unmistakeable.
I actually said "OH SHIT" and woke up The Man. Then I was like "SO I'M GOING TO MAKE A PHONE CALL" as he starts getting dressed. Since I was group B strep positive, my water breaking meant WELP HOSPITAL TIME RIGHT NOW. For most people, water breaking is HEY WELCOME TO LABOR PRETTY SOON GO AHEAD AND STAY HOME SLEEP IF YOU CAN. Yeah.
So I call the midwives and am like no really my water broke, I'm sitting in a like foot-wide wet spot on my bed, really, that's what it has to be. I wasn't having contractions at that point, but they were like "yeah, you should come in." So we finish getting dressed, finish packing the auxiliary hospital bag, and make our way down there.
Before we left, I took one last belly picture, and I'm smiling in it for the first time in weeks, because my mind is saying BABY IN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS OR LESS AWWWWW YEAH.
Here is that picture:
We get to the hospital, and while The Man parks the car, I check in. I'm still not really having contractions. I'd had one or two in the car, but nothing big and nothing regular. I sign another eight million forms and get walked up to the antenatal testing and evaluation unit, so that they can test and evaluate us HAR HAR. Basically they had me get naked, put on a hospital gown, have people stick some pH paper in my vagina to see if it was amniotic fluid I was leaking (OH I TOTALLY WAS), then hook me up to the fetal heart monitor and contraction monitor, like they would do during a non-stress test.
I FINALLY HAD SOME CONTRACTIONS WHILE BEING MONITORED it was so fucking affirming. Finally, NO, I WASN'T MAKING THIS UP I KNEW WHAT I WAS FEELING WERE CONTRACTIONS. But it's like three-thirty in the morning so after the heplock was put in my arm (and the nurse who did that did an AMAZING job), so they dim the lights and advise us to get some sleep. We are also told that it's a busy night and all of the labor and delivery rooms are currently full, so who knows if or when we'll get one! It could be interesting!
I'm laying in the bed, and The Man is trying to sleep in the one chair in the room, and not doing well. I'm kind of dozing, but mostly super excited. So I try to read as I'm getting my penicillin. This is maybe four, four-thirty in the morning. And I start having regular contractions. So I start timing them.
They're ten minutes apart.
Then seven minutes apart.
Then five minutes apart.
FOR AN HOUR AND A HALF.
They're not super-painful, but it's enough that I'm like yup, contraction. So when the nurse comes in she hooks me back up to the monitor, and puts the word out that we'll need a labor and delivery room. The Man and I entertain ourselves by watching the monitor through the contractions. They're getting a bit stronger, enough that I have to take a few deep breaths during them, but not bad. The Man is fascinated by being able to predict exactly when he'll see my facial expression change during a contraction.
The nurse and I naturally chit-chatted and made friends. She asked if I had a birth plan and what it was, and when I told her that I was planning no painkillers, that labor didn't scare me, she told me "oooh I love the tough girls, y'all are my favorite". Pretty much all of the nurses, I made friends with. It was awesome.
Around seven, seven-thirty, a labor and delivery room is free, so our nurse snags that shit for us and we are moved down the hall. I walked under my own power! Good times. The labor and delivery room is much larger, has a more comfortable bed, has more outlets, and its own bathroom with a jacuzzi and a shower, hell yeah. We are advised to sleep while we can, and hey, here's the room service menu maybe order some breakfast they'll bring it to you. So we order some food. We got blueberry pancakes, which were adequate. I didn't eat much, again, excited, and really didn't have much of an appetite.
Also it was apparently an ISSUE that I brought my own thyroid medication and took it myself without a nurse there whoops. Everything I'd read said "take your medications with you to the hospital", and the nurses were like "oh well we'll get you some Synthroid from our pharmacy why use yours". I had to explain that I wasn't ON Synthroid, I was on Tirosint, and I'd prefer to use mine, thanks. They took my box of meds to the pharmacy to get checked in, which took hours, and basically all that happened was it was put in a ziploc bag with a little sticker on it with my name and a barcode, and had a disclaimer form in there that I never signed that said I DO NOT HOLD THE HOSPITAL OR PHARMACY RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDICATION etc. and so on. Yeah, okay. Wev.
So for most of the morning and afternoon, I was in labor. I was also on Twitter, because it was early labor, and yeah, I could tell it was happening, but it wasn't super painful. For a while I was on a birthing ball, I took a hot shower for like forty-five minutes, I walked around. The nurses and midwives encouraged me to eat, so we got some lunch. I had a cheeseburger and fries, which were okay but not the most amazing cheeseburger I've had. But okay. The Man was on the internets on his tablet and trying to sleep in the chair in the room.
Throughout the afternoon, the intensity of the contractions ramped up - as in, they were more painful, and I'd have to stop talking during one, but nothing where I was OMG IN PAIN OMG. I had penicillin every four hours, and that was really the reason I was at the hospital - otherwise I would have gone through all of this at home. The contractions varied some more in their timing - they would be five minutes apart, then ten for a while, then back to seven, but they didn't stop. I also continued leaking fluid, which was OH SO FUN. I basically spent the day wearing just a hospital gown, because fuck underwear when a baby could pop out soon.
I also definitely spent like an hour talking with one of the nurses - who herself had like NINE KIDS - about the state of child mental health services and child protection services in the state.
In the bathroom was a bag with some mesh underwear, and giant-ass pads. There was a package of pads on the shelf in the bathroom - "Curity" was the brand, but it was open and the bag had sagged just enough that it looked like it said "Cunty", which entertained me NO END.
The nurses also had me walking up and down the hall, which I did with The Man. My hips were still in poor shape, so it was slow progress, and the later it got, the more I had to stop walking during contractions, but it was fine.
Towards about four pm, the midwife came in to see me. The nice thing was the midwife on duty all day was one that I REALLY liked - she was the one who gave me the huge hug when I was released from maternal-fetal medicine. So anyway, she comes in to check up on me. And while the fact that I'm still in early labor is not in and of itself a problem, she's concerned because by this point I'd had A LOT of penicillin. Like a lot a lot. And they don't have a time limit on delivery, per se - so nothing like "within 24 hours of your water breaking" - but that's a lot of drugs for me and baby, and maybe we should think about a little pitocin to see if that kicks things in to high gear.
I am okay with this plan because I AM DONE BEING PREGNANT I AM HAVING MY BABY GODDAMN TODAY THAT IS FINAL.
The midwife advised me to eat something, because once the pitocin started, I wouldn't be allowed to eat anything. Also, I'd have to be hooked up to a monitor continuously during the pitocin. Oh and we should do an ultrasound to confirm what position the baby is in.
The Man brought me some toast with peanut butter on it, and I wolfed that down. I also drank some more water. We did an ultrasound and the baby was in the
right occiput posterior position - so head down, but the back along my right side, and hir face was facing up, away from my back - "sunny-side up" if you will, and looking right at the ultrasound wand. Which
explained a few things, especially how I could feel their hands fluttering right in front and low during the last few months of pregnancy. It also explained why I kept leaning back during contractions.
Once we did the ultrasound, I was hooked back up to the monitors and we started the pitocin. I really didn't have much of it - maybe 1 cc in total. Basically it started and a few minutes later OH SHIT hi welcome to active labor.
I had been skeptical about the "oh, you won't be able to mistake active labor" bit that I was told, but NOPE NO MISTAKING THIS. ACTIVE LABOR WAS NOT KIDDING. I was laying in the bed, on my right side - in the hopes that we could help the baby to rotate - and jeezy muffin creezy. I held on tight to the rail of the bed, moaned, wanted to scream but was talked through moaning by the midwife, and yo, it wasn't kidding.
I also puked. A LOT.
Now, I had been nauseated during contractions earlier, and had said a few times "ugh I feel like I'm going to puke." This, after a few contractions, went from "I feel like I'm going to puke" to "DEFINITELY GOING TO PUKE". Some quick thinking from the midwife and The Man ensured I had a container to puke in. The peanut butter toast? Came right back up. And then I puked like three more times. After the second time, I am pretty sure my entire GI tract tried to evacuate via my throat. It was deeply, deeply unpleasant. I fucking hate puking, and I honestly could not help it at all. It was NOPE PUKING NOW.
The midwife was wonderful. She told me "during labor, vomit and blood and nausea are GOOD signs." Which, yes, the were signs labor was progressing, but oh jeebus, fuck vomiting, fuck that shit.
I also started having back labor. Fuck back labor. I labored for a while on my hands and knees, which made keeping the monitor hooked up to me difficult. They kept losing the baby's heartbeat. We decided to take me off the pitocin so that I could be taken off the monitors. They still had to check the baby's heartbeat every fifteen minutes, but I didn't have to be continuously monitored. Active labor definitely continued without the pitocin. The midwife encouraged me to breathe, moan with a low pitch, mouth open - "open mouth open cervix" - and relax between contractions. During the first part of active labor, that was pretty easy to do, especially while I was on my hands and knees.
Later on, that was not so easy. Like I said, I definitely had back labor. Back labor is unsurprising with a posterior-presenting baby. I spent a long time sitting on the toilet, because it had a really high pipe in the back for the flush mechanism, and I could rest my head on it between contractions.
After an hour or two, the midwives wanted me to move, so I was back on the birthing ball, leaning back against The Man. The contractions were way more intense. With back labor, I didn't get a break during contractions at all, so basically I was constantly in pain. The pain definitely got WORSE during a contraction, but it never went away. That made labor a fuckton harder. Additionally, I was getting frustrated because the nurse would talk me through a contraction - saying things like "okay, it's easing, it's going away now". Which wasn't always true. I had a number of contractions that "double-peaked", meaning I'd hit a peak pain in the contraction, and it would fade a little, then hit a second, stronger peak before finally easing. They would also come in waves - three less intense contractions, then three more intense contractions.
The nurses and midwives also wanted me to lean forward with contractions, but that made shit hurt worse - also not unusual with a posterior baby and back labor. So I kept leaning back with contractions.
By this point, I was tired as fuck and crying. All I could say was "make it stop, make it stop". I was pretty out of it with pain. Not going to lie, I had a conversation with the nurse and The Man about how I know I had said I didn't want an epidural but oh my god the pain just didn't stop, it wouldn't stop, make it stop. The nurse put me off and said "well when the midwife comes back we can talk about an epidural." She told me after I gave birth that once I hit that point, she was pretty sure I was at least 8-9 centimeters dilated.
Some time later, the midwife came back in. The earlier midwife had gone off duty, so this was a new one - except that we'd met her when we went in thinking that maybe my water had broken. Her style was not huggy, it was very calm, matter of fact, and firm, which is what I needed at that point. She had me get up on the bed and try laying on my side. And then I had a contraction and OH WELL SHIT WE'RE PUSHING NOW. It was honestly a little frightening. I was pushing and I did not have a choice in the matter, it was happening SO FUCKING THERE. Like I said, I was kind of out of it with pain, so I cried as I explained that I had to push I couldn't help it. The midwife did the first and only vaginal exam I had and said "you're almost fully dilated, there's just a thin rim and one more good contraction should to it." That got my attention - even the midwife said "oh you just came back to me a little now." And honestly I had, for two reasons. The first was that the end was in sight. The second was that the back pain had gone away finally, indicating The Kid had rotated and was ready to rock and roll.
I pushed for about twenty minutes. Not straight - I was still only having contractions about every four to five minutes, so I got a definite break. During contractions, the nurse and The Man were holding up my legs, as I was laying on my back in the bed. Which we found interesting, because we heard how oh, that's the hardest position, it's better to squat, blah blah blah, and here I was in it anyway. Whatever, it worked and didn't hurt.
And really, pushing hurt way less than active labor. It was intense as fuck - there was definitely one where I screamed like R2D2 - but it hurt less. The midwife did have to keep reminding me don't scream with the effort, push all that down. So instead my face turned MASSIVELY PURPLE - The Man was like "oh shit, is she going to have a freaking aneurism" he told me later. It was a LOT of effort. But in between I put my legs down, and was aware enough that when I felt one coming on, I could be like "pick up my legs please" before I had to really push.
As I was pushing, the midwife first asked if I wanted a mirror. I responded with a flat "NO." A bit later, as The Kid was crowning, she said "give me your hand" and I responded with the same flat "NO." The Man watched the entire process, but I was not interested in watching or feeling with my hand. I WAS PRETTY AWARE OF WHAT WAS HAPPENING, I DO HAVE NERVE ENDINGS IN AND AROUND MY VAGINA, THANK YOU. I KNOW WHERE THE KID IS, AND THEY ARE NOT OUT YET.
Like I said, I only pushed for like twenty minutes. At one point the midwife was asking after the OB on call and asking that they be notified to be ready, which I thought meant that I was going to have a c-section. I thought to myself OH HELL TO THE FUCK NO. This perception was bolstered by the fact that as The Kid descended through the birth canal, their heart rate started dropping. So the midwife was pretty clear that The Kid needed to come out REAL QUICK. After another push the midwife said "we need to do an episiotomy, is that okay?" and I was barely done saying "okay" before I felt the snip. And after maybe three more pushes The Kid was out.
After the head popped out the midwife told me to stop for a minute and not push - turns out The Kid had their hands fisted up in front of their mouth, and then the cord wrapped around all of that, so the midwife quickly unlooped the cord, and then then PLOP baby was out. Feeling a baby slither out of my vagina was definitely an interesting feeling I am never going to forget.
They put the baby on my chest, skin-to-skin, where I exhaustedly cooed to hir. Then they took hir away to be weighed, etc. The Man went with. I stayed on the table. For over an hour. Because it turns out the reason the midwife wanted the OB ready to go was because she could tell that oh shit was I going to need some serious stitching up. During the stitching up, I chatted with the OB and midwife. Turns out the midwives there have a 2% episiotomy rate so yeah, I really needed one, and even with that, I had a 3rd degree tear and a fair amount of interior and lateral tearing as well. Like I said, it was over an hour to stitch me up. I also found out that I lost almost as much blood as I would have had I had a c-section FUN TIMES.
After I was stitched up, The Man brought The Kid over to me so that I could try breastfeeding. All of the sites and shit are like OH MAKE SURE THE BABY LATCHES ON IN THE FIRST HOUR AFTER BIRTH, yeah, well, that wasn't an option, but it didn't seem to matter, because The Kid latched on like a fucking PRO and nursed contentedly.
After that and some additional clean-up, and after a bassinet was found - they were running a little short on those - we finally got moved to the post-partum room. The hospital was so busy that weekend that we were in an overflow room on a different floor, in one of the pediatric units. But, the room had a cot for The Man, and there was still snacks down the hall. My overnight nurse for my entire stay was Pam, and lo, she was AWESOME. We really bonded. She was tickled when I informed her that by bringing me food, she was now my FAVORITEST PERSON IN THE WORLD, for lo, I was SO FUCKING HUNGRY. I devoured some Cheerios, some peanut butter toast, a fuckton of water, graham crackers, some other shit. Basically whatever was available for free in the kitchen down the hall (one of the selling points to this hospital was that the labor and delivery unit had kitchens available for patient use, including free food like cereal, milk, tea, coffee, juice, ginger ale, popsicles, bread, bagels, butter, peanut butter... that sort of thing). FOOD WAS DELICIOUS.
Also the midwife came and checked up on me. Turns out after you give birth, they are really keen on you peeing as soon as possible. But everything is all swollen and numb in that area, so it can be difficult. I got to pee in front of my nurse and midwife. Turns out the trick is to sit on the toilet and blow in to a straw in a cup of water. I DON'T EVEN KNOW, but it totally works. Pam them showed me the joys of ice packs and witch hazel and lidocaine delivered to one's bits via mesh undies. Bulky, messy, and yet OH MY FUCKING GOD FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD.
And then I slept. By the time The Velociraptor was born, I had been up for about 36 hours and The Man for over 40. He made up the cot in the room and had passed the fuck out about five minutes after we got the room. Once I had eaten and peed and gotten a dose of ibuprofen and The Kid was asleep, I did the same thing. Mmm. Sleep.
And that's basically it. Even during labor, I never was like I AM NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN. It was hard. It was painful... and yeah I want more kids. Also, I LOVE LOVE LOVE my care providers and hospital (I do NOT love the bills, but wev). They were awesome and I will definitely be returning if possible for the next one.
