The Compassionate Prison - Part I: "Labor"

Daddy (a new name for BMW Boy, the hubby, hubs, the husband, etc.) said on day 4 of NICU, "I'm going to write a book about what's happened here... it's going to be called 'The Compassionate Prison.'" With his permission, I'm using the same title for this blog post.

But first we must share the labor and delivery story. Every mother has one, right? Here's mine and Naomi's.

(Warning: I'm going to share a few "medical" details so if you're grossed out, stop reading now.)

OBGYN Doc bumped up the due date (to an earlier day than the 10th) a few days because of the development growth patterns found in recent ultrasounds. This did not do anything for my patience, seeing that I had already passed my original due date when we went for a check up on Tuesday, Oct. 12. I went in to do the normal pee-in-a-cup routine and found I was bleeding a little. I told my doc and he said, "Great! Perhaps after I check your cervix you'll see some more action." I did.

His check results? Still... dilated = 0; effaced = 0; baby's head station = -4. (That's WAY above the pelvis, if you're not familiar with preggo lingo.) No signs of baby coming anytime soon.

Doc was going out of town the next day, so he scheduled us for an induction the day he returned (in case the baby hadn't come yet.) He was pretty concerned and wanted to do a C-Section for safety reasons, but the hubs and I were holding out to see if she'd come on her own. Gut feeling that the birth canal route would actually be better for us. Doc also scheduled us for some close observation and non-stress testing for that afternoon and in a few days (while he was gone).

So Daddy-to-be and I went to the nearby mall and walked around for 2 hours, had lunch, etc. (Happiness is Chick-Fil-A!) Still mild bleeding. Restroom visits about every 20 minutes. Starting to feel mild contractions -- different than the "practice" contractions I'd been feeling for weeks. Not painful, just there.

That evening, the contractions were coming pretty consistently, I convinced the daddy-to-be to pull out his iPhone app and start tracking them at about 7:30 p.m. How 'bout that! They were coming consistently every 10 minutes, and lasting for 2-2.5 minutes. At 9:30 p.m. I lost the mucus plug. No question about that! It felt good to know that things were actually happening for real.

However, we were both extremely wary of going to the hospital just to be sent home, so we set up shop in the living room and labored there All. Night. Long. Those excruciating contractions lasted 2.5 minutes almost every flippin' time. I paced. I bounced on the huge yoga ball. I sat on the toilet backward. I had the hubs push my lower back. I knelt on all fours. I rocked back and forth. You name it... I did it to stay mobile and comfortable.... and to MOVE. THAT. BABY. DOWN. (Remember how she was way above the pelvis earlier that day?) I couldn't convince hubs to go to sleep even for a little while, especially when they started coming every 5-6 minutes for over an hour.

At about 6 a.m., I was spent. Hubs convinced me to labor laying down, and try to rest for a while. However, as soon as I did, the contractions slowed again to 10 minutes (but still lasting for 2.5 minutes each). I wept bitterly and was about to give up when the hubs held me in his arms and gave me the most beautiful, calming, encouraging pep talk a wife could receive from a husband.

Later that morning, a dear friend M (who also happens to be 9 months pregnant, but with the energy of a 2nd-trimester-er) came over and worked with me, massaging my back, tracking contractions, force-feeding me fruit and energy bars and water, massaging my feet, hands, arms, legs... I could not have kept going without her. She left at about 6:30 p.m. and another dear friend T (who, through this whole thing did as much if not more than a sister would have done!) came over for a few hours. She also pushed on my back, reminded me that they hurt less if you stay calm through the bugger contractions, and came prepared with smoothies and a delicious crepe. (I recall the husband being impressed that I downed that crepe veraciously. It was the first time I ate something with real intent all day.)

When the contractions came closer and closer (I had stopped talking altogether hours before), the sister friend T kept working with me while hubs got the last minute things together for the hospital. She went over the list with him and asked, "What about this.." and "Do you have that?..." Priceless help.

Both of these women were key in my survival of the labor process. I have no idea how the hubs and I would have been able to do it without them. I will be forever in their debt.

I was nervous heading to the hospital and feared the car ride. But it went pretty smoothly. Hubs helped me take a shower before we left (I was seriously weak and didn't know if I could stand long enough for a shower! Seriously.) Sister friend T pulled my wet hair back in a ponytail and carried things to the car. I paused once on the way to the car. Contractions coming. every. four. minutes. Lasting. two. or. three. minutes.

We arrived at the hospital at 9:30 p.m. The nurse immediately had me change into a hospital gown, which I was quite happy to do since it's the closest thing to being naked I could be since nakedness was pretty much the only thing I really wanted to wear).  She said, "If you're dilated to a 3-4, we'll automatically admit you. If not, we'll put you on observation for 2 hours." I started mentally preparing myself to hear "1" or "2" so I didn't crumble into pieces, but you can imagine my jubilation when she said, "Three and a half!"

Daddy-to-be and I high-fived and a rush of euphoria zipped through my body. We're having a baby. We're having a baby. We're having a baby!

"So how long were you laboring at home?" The nurse asked.
"We had been tracking contractions for about 25 hours," Daddy-to-be replied.
"You labored at home for 25 hours?!" She asked with an unbelieving tone.
"Absolutely." I said.

You can also imagine my euphoria when she immediately asked if I was interested in "pain management." Um... yes... please. I don't have to wait? Um. OK! Not interested in narcotics. Bring on the epidural.

For some reason, the nurses were having a very hard time finding a vein for the IV. They tried four times. But I did not care. I was happy -- thrilled -- and on some sort of crazy high. I was having a baby. Bring it on. A few nurses came in just to meet me. "You're the one who labored at home for 25 hours? ... Yeah, I heard about you."

That made me feel good. I accomplished something!

The anesthesiologist came in at about 11:30 p.m. With his smartly cropped dark hair and muscles bulging out his lab coat, he looked like he walked right off the set of Grey's Anatomy or  Baywatch. Not exaggerating. He had on a T-Shirt and jeans and his white lab coat open, and he was seriously flirting with my attending nurse. Daddy-to-be sat in the corner chair (far away from the large needles) shaking his head. We are in L.A.

The epidural wasn't bad. The IV mishaps hurt much worse. I got a serious case of the shakes as the it kicked in. Adrenaline? Shock? Labor hormones? I don't know. All I know is that it was difficult to sleep with my whole body trembling uncontrollably, like I was extremely cold or something. With a prayer and focus on calming my body, I slipped into a light, but well-appreciated sleep at about 1:00 a.m.

To be continued...