Sunday morning, after typing up my last blog post, I got dressed and Lance went outside with me to walk around. We took our little piece of paper that we were writing the contraction times on.
We walked around the grass circle for about an hour. I could walk and talk through every contraction, so I still wasn't sure that they were "real". Yes, they were extremely painful, but not so much that I had to stop walking or talking.
We walked around and around and around. The contractions still weren't consistent. 3 minutes, 6 minutes, 4 minutes, 8 minutes. Finally we went inside.
My mom seemed to think I was in labor. She kept telling me to just go to the hospital. I kept saying that I could still walk and talk through them and that they weren't consistent. The last thing I wanted to do was ride in the car for 45 minutes and then be sent home.
I also have a pride issue. I didn't want to be "one of those" moms who go in thinking they are in labor and really aren't.
Instead I decided to take a shower and get dressed and put on some makeup and eat something. Then finally, at about 11:30 AM, my mom talked me into going to the hospital.
I still didn't feel like it was time to go. But, I asked Lance for another blessing before we left. It was beautiful. It made both me and my mom cry.
The ride to the hospital wasn't bad at all. I put the Boppy pillow on the seat in the car, then put a puppy potty training pad over that, in case my water broke. It was nice and comfy. Contractions were still coming 3-5 minutes apart. They were all really bad, and I was breathing through each one.
I think I texted a few people at this point saying that we were headed in and I'd let them know if I was really in labor or not. Sierra asked how the contractions felt, and I replied, "Like death."
In retrospect, that "like death" feeling, was nothing compared to what was to come.
We got to the hospital, and I sat in the car afraid to go in. "What do I say?" "How are they going to react?"
I've heard so many horror stories of women going in because they are in a ton of pain and the nurses are rude to them. I just wanted to turn the car around and go home. Instead, Lance walked me inside. We went in, and I spoke with the lady at the front desk.
"My doctor said to come in when my contractions were 5 minutes apart for 2 hours... it's been 5." She said, "OK." Then I think she had me check over some information and stuff. I had to stop and concentrate for a minute because another contraction had come just then. Then when it was over I could act like a normal person. I signed something and then they took me to a room to check me out. It was much like the non-stress tests I've been getting, except I had to undress from the waist down.
The nurse checked me, and I just worried the whole time. "I'm probably a 2," I thought to myself.
"Your water could break at any second. I mean, just my hand being in there could make it break. You're a good four, four and a half."
It was like music to my ears. I wasn't quite as dilated as I wanted to be when I got the hospital, but dilated enough that I was in real labor. And without really thinking I was in labor, too! She said I could get an epidural at any time and I said, "Let's just see how far I can get."
I was so annoyed being hooked up to the baby monitor and uterus monitor and the IV in me. I just wanted to be free, walk around, do whatever. I almost felt bad every time I went to the bathroom and had to unhook the monitors. And it sucked taking the IV liquid (just salt water) with me every time I had to go. Which was a lot.
Having to pee makes contractions 10 times worse. Having them pump fluid into you makes you have to pee a lot. It was so uncomfortable.
My doctor got there at about 2:30pm to break my water. She said I was a good 5.5cm by then. I seemed to be progressing really fast. Lily's head was dropping and I was dilating and everything was perfect. Still all drug free at this point.
It went along just fine for another hour and a half. Then my contractions started getting really bad. So bad that I could not concentrate on my own, I needed help from Lance and my mom. It was really nice having them both there. Lance would rub my back, and put pressure on the perfect spots. He danced with me, he held me, he told me I was doing great. My mom would breathe with me. But the contractions got so strong that I couldn't focus any more. The contractions started getting so strong and so close together that I was starting to panic.
At about 4:00 the nurse came in to check me again. Before she even checked me, I told Lance, "I'm done. I'm really done. I'm done." I was a 6.5. I then talked to the nurse about several pain relief options. She suggested one narcotic that kicked in fast but wore off fast. She thought that since I was progressing so fast that that option would be great because it would get me through this last little bit. I thought about it, but felt strongly about getting the epidural. I didn't want to feel any more contractions. I was done. She left to go get the anesthesiologist and then I had the strongest contraction I can remember. I got through it just fine, but immediately after it ended, I panicked. I started sobbing, hyperventilating, and I could not relax. It hurt so bad and I just wanted it to stop. I was worrying about the next contraction coming up. I wanted the epidural immediately, but I had contraction after contraction while I waited for the anesthesiologist.
If you looked at the monitor, the contractions were off the chart, and they weren't waves, they were spikes. They shot up super fast and came down, and I had no rest.
I had to pee, AGAIN, so I started getting up to pee, just as the anesthesiologist came in. He said he would come back when I was done. So I went to the bathroom, had an awful contraction on the toilet, then went back to the bed. I stayed standing up for a while because the contractions felt better standing. That's when Lance said, "This will be your last one, you'll be OK." I just said, "It takes a while for the medicine to kick in. I'm done, I'm done. Make it stop."
It was another half hour until the anesthesiologist came back. So that means, I went an hour more without an epidural after I was ready for one. An entire hour of pain and agony, and panicking, and crying.
When he came back, he got started on putting it in place. A little stinging here, pressure there. It was nothing. When he was done he asked, "How was the compared to the horror stories?" I just said, "It was easier than a contraction." He laughed.
From then on I had to stay in bed. Which I was fine with, as long as the pain stopped. But it didn't. It didn't work on my left side at first.
I could tell it was sort of working, because the pain was cut in half, but it was still extremely bad pain on that left side. So they said to lay on that side for a while to see if it would go away, but it wasn't. I tried turning over onto my right side. My nurse had the anesthesiologist come in and talk to me about things he could do to get that left side feeling better. But at the point, turning on my right side and pressing the button for more medicine made my left side feel all better so I told him it was fine.
Then I felt nothing. No pressure, no pain. I could still move my legs, which I was grateful for. They felt like they were about 100lbs a piece, but I could move them. I didn't want to lose control over them.
I was a very happy, relaxed girl. I'm sure my mom and Lance were relieved as well.
Then, since I was so close, visitors started coming.
That's when this photo was taken:
You can tell I'd been crying, a lot, but that I look sooo comfortable. They were about to check me again. I had been 9.5cm last time.
Guess what? I was still 9.5cm. I had a bit of cervix still over Lily's head so they wanted to wait it out to see if it would go away.
I was 9.5cm for two hours. I don't want to know what that would have felt like without the epidural. I am so glad I got it when I did.
Finally at 8pm I was ready to push. Talk about difficult when you can't feel a thing down there! But eventually I got the hang of it.
After pushing for an hour and a half, they told me I had a fever, so they had to start some antibiotics. They were worried it might be an infection somewhere.
Then my contractions spaced out to 10 minutes apart. So, I got to push 3 times every 10 minutes. That is horrible and slow.
So then they started the pitocin to speed things up a bit.
Remember how I said one medical intervention causes another? Yeah, that's how this was going.
The nurse said she saw a dime size amount of Lily's head, so I started pushing even harder. Even though I was exhausted.
My doctor came about 2.5 hours after I started pushing. She said that since I had a fever, they wanted the baby out within a half hour. So I pushed harder and harder and harder. I started to be afraid that I would need a cesarean if this baby wouldn't come out.
Then they told me Lily was posterior, and that she was stuck under my pelvic bone. My doctor said, "No wonder this is taking so long! You're doing great pushing, she's just stuck." At that point, they wanted her out, like then. So my doctor talked about using forceps to get her out. I said OK. I just wanted Lily out. Pain on the left side was coming back. I could feel pressure and pain with every contraction, which was good, since it helped me push, but bad because it was painful!
I rested for a few contractions, which was hard since I could feel them on the left side (again, not as strong as without the epidural, but definitely painful). My doctor placed the forceps, and told me I'd push just how I had been pushing. The contraction came and I pushed, pushed, pushed, and my doctor pulled, pulled, pulled and Lily still wasn't out.
I was so tired and in so much pain, and my doctor could tell. She said, "OK, let's do this. We're not waiting for the next contraction." And I pushed, pushed, pushed and the doctor pulled pulled pulled and then there was this bloody, slimy thing on me that was covered in poo. Her head looked like a mushroom. I feel like an awful mother because I was just in shock, and my baby was not cute. I just kept saying, "Oh my! Oh my!"
Lance cut the cord and then they whisked her over to the table to inspect her and torture her. I guess she had swallowed some of the meconium. Lance said to me "She has your lips!"
Then the stitching began. I was pretty torn up. I won't go into detail, but it took the doctor over an hour to stitch me up. Between the size of Lily (7lbs, 13oz, 21.5 inches long) and using the forceps... it was really bad. My doctor had to numb me up again because by this time the epidural was pretty much gone. In fact, they had removed it because it was empty. While my doctor was stitching me up, she said that there was no way I could have pushed Lily out on my own.
When she was done stitching me, I got to hold Lily, who was already much cuter than when she first came out.
Lily got her first bath right in the delivery room, shortly after this picture was taken. I really liked that. We had planned on Lance filming it so I could see, but I could see anyway because it was done right there! Lance filmed anyway though, for memory's sake.
She hated it, by the way.
Then they wheeled me to where we'd be staying the next two nights. And the next chapter in our life began...
