It’s been awhile since I wrote! The last week and a half of pregnancy are a blur to me right now. I think I meant to write an entry with a few tidbits of symptoms or news or something, but it escapes me at the moment.
Thursday, March 4, four days before my due date, I stayed up a little later than usual. My stomach felt a little off, somewhere between nausea and cramps. It was very mild but I stayed up until the feeling subsided a bit, then went to bed around 12:30 or 1 a.m.
At around 3:30 a.m. I gradually woke up, realizing that I was having contractions. My stomach muscles would tighten up and I’d have a dull cramp-like pain that started in my lower belly and spread to my pelvic area and toward my back and sides as it intensified. Then the clenched-muscle feeling would ease up along with the pain. This had happened a week or two before as well, and had lasted until I got up, at which point they faded away. These ones felt similar, but they seemed closer together than the ones I’d experienced previously. I was still half-asleep, but I started trying to time them, from beginning to beginning as instructed by my doctor, using the time on the alarm clock. Dr. O. had instructed me to call the clinic once I was getting them 5 minutes apart for over an hour.
The first set were 7 minutes apart. The next one was 3 minutes later. Then it was 7 minutes to the next, then 3, then 2. At that point I wasn’t sure what to make of it, because while they were very close together, the timing was really irregular. I decided to wake AS up and let NT sleep. Whether it was a false alarm or the real thing, it seemed like a good idea for someone to be getting as much sleep as possible. NT has to be to work much earlier and his schedule is inflexible, so AS it was.
We went into the living room. I called and left a message with my health insurance to precertify going into the hospital, which I had meant to do the day before anyway. AS started using an iPhone app she’d found for timing contractions. It was confusing though, because the app kept asking for the end of the contraction, which a) supposedly didn’t matter and b) was really hard to call, since the pain would subside gradually and the achy after-effect even more gradually. Also, sometimes I’d say “oh here comes one” or “oh this one’s over” and it would be a false alarm. We kept having to restart the app, and we were trying other tracking methods simultaneously. It was hard and we never really got a bead on the timing, but we came to the conclusion that though they were irregular, they were averaging 4.5 minutes apart. Also, I was getting “loose stools” (nice euphemism), and tiny amounts of bloody mucusy stuff on the toilet paper, two possible signs of coming labor.
At that point, probably around 5 or 5:30, as we were discussing whether this warranted a call to the doctor, NT woke up, saw the empty bed, guessed what might be happening and came out. We did decide to put in a call, so AS called my clinic while NT made some coffee and breakfast. I knew I wasn’t supposed to eat anything rich or fatty or overly high-fiber, so I had a few bites of toast with apple butter and some fresh pear.
The clinic put a call through to Dr. O, and we waited. I did deep breathing through my contractions and walked around or bounced on the exercise ball as recommended. If it was real labor, walking and bouncing were supposed to help the baby move lower. We heard back from the doctor that we should go ahead and go in to the hospital, though they might send me home if it wasn’t labor or if it wasn’t far enough along. We started calling our list of friends who had volunteered to drive us. First we tried CC but he wasn’t answering and his voicemail was full. Then we left a message with MN. They were geographically closest to us. We successfully reached our third friend, JF, who said she was able and ready to come get us. But as soon as AS hung up, MN called back, just having gotten our message. Since she lives so much closer, we asked her to come instead. JF was actually disappointed that she wasn’t needed after all!
While AS and NT packed the rest of the hospital bag and fed the cat, I lay down for a little bit. The contractions were more intense and painful, and I found it helped (if one of them was nearby) to grab onto AS or NT and hug them through the worst of it.
MN picked us up and drove us to the hospital. I think it was around 7:30 a.m. She and AS were chatting excitedly but I could only half pay attention, especially when a contraction hit. I felt I wanted to be somewhere quiet when I was in the midst of one.
We found the MAC (maternity assessment center?) pretty easily, and they got me undressed and put me on a bed, hooking me up to monitors so they could track the contractions. They also checked my cervix (the nurse seemed surprised/annoyed that my doctor hadn’t been checking it, but I don’t know why since it wouldn’t have told us anything) and found it to be about 60% effaced (shortened and thinned) and 1-2 cm dilated. To be ready to give birth you need to be 100% effaced and 10 cm dilated, so it wasn’t very much. The contractions were still somewhat irregular. I was also oozing something sporadically; I kept thinking it was my water breaking, but they said it was just mucus.
The whole monitoring and checking process took about an hour. At one point the nurse said she’d touched my baby’s head! Luckily I always had NT or AS to hold onto during the contractions, and I was doing pretty well with my breathing. Eventually they told me to try and walk around somewhat briskly for an hour, to see if I could make any more progress, so I started walking the halls with NT while AS left to go call our jobs and to confirm the hospital precertification with my insurance company. At that point my contractions were so painful that I found it impossible to walk through them; I’d have to stop and hug NT really hard until they subsided. It was harder and harder to breathe deeply; my body instinctively wanted me to hold my breath and/or breath in short, sharp pants when the pain got really bad.
AS hadn’t eaten breakfast so she also grabbed some McDs while she was downstairs, and she went to the MAC waiting room to eat. After I’d walked for half an hour, my contractions seemed much more frequent and painful so I thought we may have made enough progress. But when we went back to the MAC office, she brusquely told me to go finish my hour. I was kind of pissed because I would have been much more able to walk around during the hour or so they had me lying on the bed, when my pain wasn’t as intense, but as it was I wasn’t able to walk very briskly nor for very long before stopping for another contraction. (I tried to be magnanimous and told AS and NT it must be “tough love”; AS said no, it was more like “soft hate.” That cracked me up even then.)
At some point AS took over walking with me. By then I no longer wanted to be touched or near anyone during the contractions. Even light touches from their hands, and pleasant smells, like NT’s aftershave and AS’s coffee, made me feel sort of nauseous. Not exactly nauseous, but something close to it. The only bearable thing to do during the contractions was to grab onto the wall or a ledge, bend over slightly, and wait for them to pass.
I made it another 20 minutes, then said we were going back and telling the nurse I couldn’t do the whole hour. She put me back in the room and checked me; I was now dilated 2-3 cm, so some slight progress had been made. When she left the room, a series of about three huge contractions hit me, and I felt kinda like someone was scraping my guts out with a garden trowel. I begged AS to go ask them if it was too soon for an epidural. I had hoped to be much farther along in the labor, partly to make sure I didn’t slow it down and partly as some kind of macho thing, but I already couldn’t really communicate and couldn’t get my body to cooperate with deep breathing or anything else, so I didn’t see what use it would be to stay in pain if the nurses thought it was OK to get relief.
AS came back and said they were getting a delivery room set up for me and that I could have the epidural when I got there. Even just knowing that was a huge relief, but I don’t think I really showed it because at that point I was having trouble opening my eyes or focusing, let alone talking or smiling. The pain was just incredible; I had no idea it would get that intense that soon.
I think it was around 9:30 or 10 a.m. when I got my room. I went in and knelt on a chair and grabbed the back and basically wouldn’t look at or talk to anyone, which made things kind of difficult because the nurse (a different one from the brusque one, thank goodness) was asking me a long questionnaire of health information. Luckily AS knew most of the answers, and if she got one wrong I would usually summon up a voice and correct her. Mostly when I did talk it was grunting something about epidurals and how much it hurt. The nurse, a complete sweetheart, kept assuring me that the anesthesiologists were on their way.
Eventually they got there and got me to the bed, where they hooked me up to various IVs, pricked my fingers and arms with various needles (once they apologized or asked if it hurt and I remember saying that needles almost felt good compared to the other pain I was having), and talked to me about the risks and side effects. I would have agreed to it if they’d said there was a 50-50 chance of spontaneous combustion. They gave me a consent form that had several areas to read and check. I looked sideways and found AS’s eyes and she knew to come over and help me read it and check the right boxes and sign it.
Next they sat me up in bed and poked me with the shot that would numb me enough to get the epidural in (it’s a tube that goes into the spine and drips medicine continuously). Let me say that getting poked in the spine is a unique and unpleasant experience. Not horribly painful (at least not compared to labor pains) but just really…really…weird. In a bad way. Also, once they get the epi needle in, you can kind of feel the medicine sliding up and down your spine, and it’s cool. I mean temperature-wise. Yeah, cool medicine creeping into your spine. Weird, weird, weird.
Then they taped the tubes down so I wouldn’t dislodge them, and I was put on my back. I would say within 15 minutes (though time was getting weird at that point–actually, had gotten weird a while ago) my contractions were back to the intensity of when we got to the hospital. Within half an hour they were like really mild period cramps. This is weird to say, but they were…pleasant. I guess I was so relieved they weren’t agonizing anymore that I would feel good every time I got a small one. Within another half hour, I couldn’t even tell I was having contractions anymore. It was absolutely marvelous. I was happy and tired and quiet.
We started playing the music I’d chosen and it was just right. How did I predict what I would want to listen to in that situation? I also watched some episodes of Columbo and almost dozed. I felt completely blissed out to not be in pain anymore.
The nurse came in periodically and checked my progress (at one point the shift switched over, and the replacement nurse was even sweeter than the one before). I was dilating and effacing at a steady clip (the dilation was increasing about 1 cm per hour), the baby’s head was nice and low, and my water broke at one point. She predicted I’d be ready to start pushing at around 6 p.m. and might have a baby by 8 p.m. NT and AS made some calls to parents on the laptop using Skype, and NT was dying to put something on Facebook so I said OK.
The nurse called Dr. O. to let her know, but unfortunately, she was going off shift. So I’d be delivering with another doctor from the clinic. Dr. O. called when I was about 9 cm and apologized, but assured me that I would like Dr. N. Honestly, I felt so good at that point that I didn’t mind much.
The nurse checked me one more time and pronounced me 10 cm dilated and 100% effaced, so she started coaching me on how I would push. We even practiced a couple times and she felt some downward movement of the baby’s head. Pushing involved lying on my back, holding onto my thighs and pulling them toward me while pointing my elbows out, curling my head upward while keeping my back from arching, taking in a deep breath and holding it, and then bearing down with a combination of clenching my ab muscles and imitating straining for a bowel movement. It was a lot to coordinate all at once, so I was glad we were practicing. The nurse and AS and NT were supporting my legs and head. I had to wait for a feeling of pressure before I started pushing, and then I had to push three times during the contraction.
Dr. N. came in, a tall, quiet man with big eyes and low affect. I never felt like I could get a read on what he was thinking, but he seemed nice enough. We started the pushing, and he observed for awhile before going out of the room. I learned later he was monitoring progress on a machine.
They said I was making progress, and NT and AS got a peek at the baby’s head, which they said had a lot of hair! I couldn’t really tell what was happening; I was trying so hard to keep consistently doing all the different components of pushing. As I started pushing harder, I felt pressure in my eyes; it was a really bizarre feeling as if they were going to pop out of my head. The nurse tried to get me to strain my face less and push more with my muscles, but holding a big breath just caused it to happen. I tried holding less breath in, and that helped somewhat, but the sensation never went away.
At first the nurse thought it would take me less than the two hours predicted, but progress was slow. Dr. N. came in once in awhile to fine-tune my technique. I didn’t believe anything was happening and kept telling everyone so. When they assured me it was, I thought they were fibbing to keep me trying. I also was convinced I was crapping on the table, since I’d heard about that happening, and I’d had diarrhea during early labor at home, and I felt the nurse wiping me off periodically. (I found out later it was blood, but every time the nurse told me it wasn’t shit I thought she was just trying to make me feel better.) Pushing was incredibly tiring. And the bigger compliments I got from the nurse, AS and NT, the worse the after-effect would be. Whenever I pushed really well, there would be this horrible painful feeling of something huge wedged into my vagina from the inside. Which, I guess, is a pretty accurate description of what was happening. The epidural couldn’t save me from that sensation, and it got worse over time, to the point where after a round of pushing I’d start writhing, and if they tried to drop my legs I’d scream. Finally they got out stirrups so whoever was holding my legs could rest between pushes. Sometimes we skipped a contraction and rested, because the baby’s heart rate would drop and we needed it to stabilize. I kept telling everyone that it wasn’t working and I couldn’t do it anymore, knowing as I said it that it didn’t matter. I had to keep doing it anyway so I did, but I felt I might be getting weaker and not pushing as hard.
At around 8 p.m. Dr. N. came in. He said that figlet’s head was wedged behind my pubic bone, which was keeping it from moving down as fast as it should. He said even if we pushed for another hour and he used the vacuum to help pull the baby out, that it might not come out at that point. He also said that the baby’s heart rate was starting to fluctuate more with each round of pushing, which was hard on it and could become dangerous if the rate dropped precipitously. He recommended a C-section and in fact had started arranging one an hour ago because he saw this possibility starting to arise.
It was a mixture of relief and disappointment. I said if the baby was in any risk at all that of course we should do the C-section. Plus privately, I wasn’t sure where I was going to muster the strength for 10 more minutes of pushing, let alone an hour.
They wheeled me in to the operating room and moved me to another bed. I was still having the huge feeling of pressure every couple minutes, and I would bear down just to relieve it a bit (the nurse had said I could). It didn’t relieve much of the pain, and I was grunting and swearing and moaning every time it happened. Since I already had the epidural inserted, they gave me the anesthesia through that. Gradually my lower half went numb and the pressure feeling blessedly receded.
Only one family member could be in the operating room, so NT and AS discussed it. I thought for sure it was going to be AS since she’s the most able to retain visible calm during crises, but it ended up being NT. He was put in scrubs and led over to stand by my head. There was a curtain draped between me and my lower half. Once they were sure I was numb they started operating. I didn’t feel much other than some pressure and slight tugging once in a while. I wasn’t as happy as I had been when they started the epidural, but being out of pain and knowing that some real progress was happening was a huge relief, since I hadn’t believed I was doing anything during the two hours of pushing.
In what seemed like a minute or two, I heard someone on the other side of the curtain say “It’s a girl” and I heard a loud, hearty baby scream. Neil repeated “It’s a girl.” As they pulled her up and out I glimpsed the top of her head. NT and I looked at each other with our mouths dropped open. I can’t remember which of us started crying first but soon we were both pretty much bawling. I think one or both of us might have said her name: “Astrid.” I can’t remember if I said it or thought it. Later I found out she was born at 8:21 p.m. on March 5, about 17 hours after I first woke up that morning. 6 lbs. 9 oz., 19-1/4 inches.
They pulled her all the way out and took her to a table to clean and examine her. It was to my left, within my line of sight. I stared and stared, crying. She was crying too, and jerking and waving her arms and legs. Apparently she also peed on the examining table! She was so vivid and alive; I didn’t expect her to look so energetic and human, even though I knew that babies have adrenaline coursing through them right after birth, and since she had gone through most of the natural-birth process, she was no different. All I could do was cry and stare at her and long to have her in my clutches. But they of course had to take her to the nursery for further examination; with a vaginal birth you can have them on your chest right away, but not with a C-section. They picked her up and then, unexpectedly, brought her close to my face. I kissed her face, which was warm and dry and incredibly soft. Then they took her away. NT went with her; later he proudly declared that she didn’t leave his sight from the time she came out of me to the time they brought her into the recovery room.
Maybe I’ll do another post about post-birth recovery, but it was kind of draining to write this (took me several days, actually), so I’m going to take a break now.