James' Story

So we left our house Tuesday night around 7:30 to go eat and drop off Isabelle before we had to check at the hospital. We went to IHOP where I couldn’t eat very much since the baby had decided to spend his last few hours on top of my stomach, making it impossible to eat more than half of my sandwich (so sad). After dinner we took Isabelle to Tammy’s house and were very happy to see her totally relaxed and enjoying the whole situation. I had been telling her she was going to sleep over and by the time we got there she was very excited and kept saying; “Sleepover a Tammy’s YAY!” So we hung out chatting for a bit and finally left Isabelle, who didn’t seem to care that we were leaving at all, and headed back up to Denton. We pulled into the parking lot at just past 10pm and slowly made our way up to maternity. I had been dragging my heels and suggesting that we just don’t show up…I asked Patrick if he thought they’d call to see where we were and he said no. This made me a little miffed…what if we were in an accident? But I can understand that the staff at the hospital is not going to check and make sure everyone scheduled to come in actually shows up. So we made it up to the labor and delivery desk, me feeling stupid the entire way….what were we doing at the hospital anyway? It’s not like I was in labor…I kept thinking everyone would look at us weird as we come strolling up to the desk to have a baby rather then hunched over in pain. But they just asked for my name, checked me off a list and led me straight to a room…the same room we were in the first time we checked in to have Isabelle (before they sent me home). They don’t have that many rooms, so I guess that wasn’t too weird, but it still seemed funny to me. It was also strange because it was a mirror set-up of the room where we actually delivered, so everything seemed backwards to me from the way I remembered.
So I get changed and they hook me up to monitor me for a bit. First they have to check my cervix, which is still very far back and only a ‘loose’ one. They inform me that I’m actually having contractions about every ten minutes or so, but they’re very mild…I thought that was nice as it seemed to mean I would have been there soon on my own anyway. So the nurse, Nicole, tells me that they’ll insert a pill thing right up next to my cervix that will help it ripen. She says they can insert one every four hours, up to four times and then they’ll have to start me on pitocin. She says that she doubts I’ll need more then one or two of the inserts since I’m so far along. So she sticks it up there and Patrick and I settle in to watch an episode of the TV show Bones on the laptop that we brought. After the show we decide to sleep. I woke up to use the facilities once or twice and noticed that the contractions were picking up. By 2:30 they were every two red lines (…this was confusing ‘cuz the monitor seemed to be recording them differently then I remembered so it was hard to understand times and such) and were hurting. Not to the point that I was squirming or anything, but they did hurt. So when the nurse came in to check me a little after 3am I informed her of this. She had told me to let her know when I noticed a ‘difference’ in them….whether they hurt more or were more regular or what. She knew I wanted an epidural, but I couldn’t get one until I was dilated to at least a four, so she said there was another drug called Nuvane(?) I could have until I was dilated enough to get the epidural. So I told her they hurt and she monitored me for another twenty minutes before getting my drugs. She said (I think…or maybe I figured this out later?) that since they were progressing so well I didn’t need another insert. So at 3:30 she gave me the shot of Nuvane…two minutes later I felt it kick in as my insides were suddenly jittery and my lips seemed to go numb. She kept telling me I needed to close my eyes and relax to let it work. So I did…apparently this drug is a narcotic similar to the Ambien they gave me last time. It didn’t really seem to do anything for the pain…what it did was cause me to fall instantly asleep (quite unwillingly most times) the second a contraction stopped….I was dreaming in cartoons and all sorts of weird things… around 5am (I think, I managed to make myself stay awake long enough to see the clock across the room) the contractions were really hurting. The nurse came in to check on me…I noticed because my moaning kept making me more alert. Sidenote: I do not moan dramatically when I am in pain…especially where people can hear me. I may do it if only Patrick is there, but no where else. The drugs made it very hard for me to consciously control the way I was handling the pain of the contractions. I did not like this at all. I think if I hadn’t been drugged up it wouldn’t have been so bad. Moving on.

It was at this point when I asked when I could get an epidural and she told me of the 4 centimeters thing. She offered to check but I said to just forget it since I was sure I hadn’t progressed that far (I didn’t say this as eloquently as that since I was, as I said, totally drugged up and out of it…I now wish I would have let her check me at that point). So she left. The next two hours are a blur of pain to me…I remember being in complete agony when the contractions came and being sure that there must be something they could do to fix it. I wanted to ask the nurse to check me and make sure I was okay, I wanted to ask if there was anything they could give me to counteract the stupid Nuvane, I wanted Patrick to come over and check on me and I wanted, oh so desperately wanted, an epidural. The problem was that with the drugs in my system I would instantly fall asleep once the contraction ended…oh I would dream that I called to Patrick (well I think I may have for real once or twice, but he didn’t hear me) and I would dream that I talked to the nurse, but then I would wake up and realize that it was just a dream. The drugs made it so I couldn’t look at the clock/monitor to gauge how long the contractions were lasting (to give me an idea of when it would stop) or to see how close they were. When I was in the grips of a contraction and semi-lucid I was unable move at all, much less speak and felt that if I made any sort of major motion I would throw up. By 7am I was feeling a tremendous amount of pressure in my nether regions with each contraction and I was sure that the baby was going to come out on its own if I didn’t call someone. I finally managed to fight pass the drugs and push the nurse call button on the bed. When they came on I asked if someone could come and check me please. In came my new nurse (shrift change) who was nine months pregnant herself (I found out later, she wasn’t that big) and said cheerily; “Is it time?” I managed to gasp out; “I want an epidural!” So she came over to check me and exclaimed that I was at a seven and she’d call the anesthesiologist right away. I collapsed with relief (very momentarily) and Patrick woke up and came to see how I was doing. I was unable to talk to him at all…or the nurse really…until I realized that the effort of calling and moving onto my back to be examined had pushed me over the edge and I was going to puke. I said; “I’m going to throw up!” and they got me a bag. A contraction or two later I puked and lost control of my bladder all at the same time…wonderful fun that! ;)
So now I’m curled up on my side with a death grip on the railing and another barf bag clutched in my hand. I very rarely opened my eyes (again stupid drugs) and was only really conscious for each contraction. Inside I was totally freaking out not only from the lack of control the drugs had given me, but also from the utter certainty that the anesthesiologist would not get there in time and I would have to deliver without drugs. If I had planned on this eventuality and had nine months to prepare myself with pain techniques or whatever it wouldn’t have been so bad. But I was scared to death that I’d have to push him out all on my own with no preparation at all. My doctor came in at one point and tried to talk to me…she said; “How are you doing?” and I managed to shake my head slightly. Then she asked; “Just waiting for your epidural?” and I nodded just as slightly. She then left to go to a meeting and said to call her when it was time. Finally, finally a freaking hour and a half later, the epidural guy came. After a huge ordeal (for me with my contractions, drugs, and pulled leg muscles) to get me on the side of the bed and curled over a pillow, the doctor kept trying to ask me questions; how tall are you? I could whisper out 5’6, but the nurse had to tell him…he asked me something else too, but I don’t remember. Anyway, so I’m bent over the pillow and he’s saying things like; oh it’s going to be cold….you’re going to feel some scratching…there will be some pressure, here it comes…watch your hair, I don’t want to get it in the tape…. In my head I was screaming at him to get on with it, but couldn’t say anything for real. The nurse finally informed him that she didn’t think I cared much at this point and I managed to nod in agreement. So he finally gets it in and I lay back. A few minutes later the pain in my back is nearly gone, but I can still feel the pressure with every contraction. However I can talk at this point and they said it was normal and that may not go away. I asked how long before the Nuvane was out of my system (it’s now about 8:30/9am) and the nurse said it should be almost gone at this point. Patrick comes back in and I manage to get some rest.
About 10am the nurse comes back in to check me and says we’re ready to go and she’ll call Caren to come back over. I think the drugs were mostly gone at this point and I was feeling much better despite the pressure. Just before Caren comes in the nurse asks if it’s okay for some highschool students to come in and observe the birth. I thought this was weird, but she said I could say no if I wanted. I asked if they were boys or girls and she said they were both girls so I said they could. Finally Caren shows up and I start pushing at 10:20. Pushing wasn’t much fun since the epidural only worked well on my right side. Up to this point I had been lying on my left to let gravity help the drugs work over there, but was now on my back. This meant that I was slowly but surely getting the feeling back in my left side…not fun. So I pushed and pushed….at the end it hurt to push (not that bad compared to before, but I still felt cheated since I shouldn’t feel any pain with my epidural) but I did anyway. The baby came out at 10:50 am. When he did I felt an enormous release of pressure from my stomach that I hadn’t realized I had been feeling for months by this point. The placenta came out a minute later and I again felt a release of pressure. I thought that was interesting since I didn’t even notice the placenta come out last time. Anyway, so they took the baby to be cleaned (per my instruction, I don’t want icky baby on my stomach fresh out of the womb…) and weighed. I was a little concerned since he didn’t cry right away, but it was okay after a second. He had (and still does kind of) a deep growly kind of cry that the nurses all thought was cute. They took him over to be weighed and informed me that he was 9lbs, 10.7 oz. To which I exclaimed; ‘Freak’n A!” Everyone thought this was hilarious…’cuz normal people don’t say stuff like that I guess…just us Mormons from Utah. So Caren sews me up and is concerned I won’t be able to urinate because of the location of the tear ( I could, it was fine). They bring the baby over and tell me I should try to nurse him in the next hour or so. Then they all leave.
So I nursed the baby…they came back in and were so impressed that he could breastfeed already. This confused me since they were the ones that told me to do it. Why would they tell me to if they didn’t think he could? Anyway, they took him to be checked out and Patrick left to go run some errands. The nurse wanted me to be able to use the restroom before moving rooms, which meant waiting for the epidural to wear off. Finally around 2pm she decided to just stick in a catheter and empty my bladder. After that I was wheeled off to my room for recovery. A bit later…quite a bit later actually…I was getting concerned since the last time I was there the nurses had been very strict about the fact that I HAD to feed the baby AT LEAST every three hours. By the time she brought him to me it had been 4 ½ hours since his last feeding, so I thought that was weird. She told me I could have the baby with me the whole time except at shift change when they needed all the babies in the nursery to be checked. She also said that they had changed the rule about having to be awake if the baby was in the room. I thought that was great since it was a stupid and unrealistic rule, she agreed. So she left me with the baby and I fed him again then hung out for awhile until Patrick came back…around 7:30pm… My friend Margie came to visit at about 7:15, which was nice. Patrick had called to let me know Isabelle was doing well and that Tammy had offered to watch her another night for us. I thought that was wonderful since I had changed my mind about Patrick not having to stay over with me and really wanted him there that night. He stayed over, we had food and watched a show…the next day he left early to work on getting the furnace all hooked up at home. I spent the whole day by myself unsure about when I was checking out, which the nurses kept asking. They also kept reassuring me that I didn’t HAVE to check out, but I needed to let them know if I was staying. Finally around 7 Patrick and Tammy came. Isabelle did really well at Tammy’s house and didn’t even seem to miss us. She thought the baby was cool, but didn’t care much about us. I got dressed and we checked out, getting home a little after 8pm…about six hours later then I was thinking we’d be coming home, but oh well. Patrick had managed to get everything set up with the furnace so we were able to have heat last night, which was nice.
So in conclusion, I didn't mind being induced...well I still would rather go into labor myself any day, but it wasn't that bad. However, I really, really hated the drugs they gave me and next time I will just tough out the contractions until I can get my epidural. That way I can at least know when they are coming and can watch the clock knowing when they will end rather than feeling totally out of control. The End.