In honor of Colin being three months old today I’m writing his birth story.
On Tuesday, October 9, I was 7 days past my due date. I woke up in the morning to…absolutely nothing. I had a non-stress test scheduled for 9 am. Of course, I wanted the baby to be okay, but I’m not going to lie, I was half hoping that they would send me on to the hospital to be induced after my test. I didn’t necessarily want to be induced, but I sure did want to meet my baby!
I dropped the big boys off at my sister-in-law’s house and went on to the doctor’s office. I’m kind of a celebrity there, everyone knows my name. I just have to walk in the door and they say, “Have a seat, Jill, we’ll let them know you’re here.” I’ve spent a lot of time there on acccount of Brady’s asthma and my chronically pregnant state.
My OB nurse set me up on the monitoring equipment and sat in the room and talked with me for a half hour. At the end of the test she informed me that the baby was fine but that they didn’t see enough heart rate accelerations so I would need to go on to the hospital to be monitored further. Woot, woot! Trying not to look too excited (I WAS concerned about the health of the baby), I skipped out of the doctor’s office.
I went home for a few minutes to pack an overnight bag for the big boys and grab my own hospital bag. I sent a text to Mark and told him I was heading to the hospital but to stay put because I wasn’t sure what would happen.
I dropped off the bag at my sister-in-law’s and went across the street to let my parents know what was going on. My dad tried to convince me to eat some leftovers but I was hell bent on stopping at McDonald’s on my way. My hospital only serves health food and I needed a french fry fix if me and Pitocin were going to tango.
I got my McD’s and headed to the hospital. I waited for an hour before they even took me back into triage. They hooked me up to another NST and told me everything looked great but that they would do an ultrasound just to be sure. The ultrasound showed no fluid around the baby so they told me I wasn’t going anywhere.
The last time I had been checked, three days before, I was not dilated at all so I was expecting an overnight induction and no action until the next day. I sent Mark a text and told him just to finish off the work day and head to the hospital when he was done.
At that point I was excited. I was FINALLY going to find out if we had a Colin or an Elisabeth!!
I was admitted into the hospital. My nurse was old-school and awesome. She basically told me it was bullshit that they were inducing me because all babies that are a week past their due date have low fluid. I totally agreed with her but was silently thankful that they were putting me out of my misery and inducing me.
She ran down my options and we decided on something that I can’t even remember at this point. She did a check and I was dilated to 1.5. I sat in the hospital room alone and I waited and waited and waited and as I waited I started having contractions. After an hour or so, the nurse came back to check on me and asked why they hadn’t started my induction. I told her I was pretty sure I had started into labor on my own. She checked me again and I had made a little progress so I was, indeed, in labor.
I agreed to have pitocin because, well, I ended up getting it for my previous two labors and I figured the third would be the same. They started the lowest dose possible and the contractions kicked up a notch.
When Mark arrived, I was still feeling really good and excited about the little baby coming. I labored in the bed for awhile, on the ball for awhile, all the time facebooking. The nurse came to check on me and commented that since I was still able to talk on the phone and facebook that I must not be ready to push out a baby. True.
After another hour or so, things intensified and I began shaking quite bad. I was pretty sure that I was entering transition. Even though I have always wanted to experience childbirth with no epidural or pain meds, I decided that the third labor wasn’t the time to find out if I had what it takes. I promptly asked for my epidural.
Getting the epidural was much easier said than done. By then, I was at the point in labor when you are contemplating jumping out the window or wishing someone would hit you over the head with a rock while wondering why, exactly, you thought you could do it again. I sat hunched over on the bed while the anesthesiologist poked me at least 10 times unsuccessfully. I couldn’t even talk, I could barely breathe. I just sat there and cried. After an eternity, in reality maybe a half hour, the epidural was finally placed and I had instant relief from the contractions but could still feel all of the pressure.
I labored on my side for another hour or so and then I knew it was time. I called the nurse in and she said I still had a little tiny bit to go and left the room. Suddenly I felt very hot and had a dry mouth. Mark was pacing the room trying to simultaneously find ice chips and a cold towel for me, neither of which he could find in his excited state. I found it hilarious watching him pace excitedly back and forth. Suddenly I was screaming for a bucket to puke into. Now Mark was really pacing. Thankfully, my nurse came in and got me all three needed items within seconds.
Now the nurse looked worried. She kept looking at the monitors, put an oxygen mask on me and asked me to change sides. Things calmed down pretty quickly and she seemed to think that they baby’s heart rate dropped as it was entering the birth canal.
It was time, but the doctor was down the hall doing another delivery. Baby wasn’t waiting so I was delivered during one contraction by my nurse, Mark, and the on-call midwife. Baby was born at 1:32 AM October 10th. They immediately layed the baby on my chest and I asked if it was a girl or a boy. Apparently nobody checked because the nurse rolled him over and announced, of course, “It’s a boy!” Instant relief. Truly. I was terrified to have a girl but that’s a story for another time.
Every mother knows the ecstasy I felt, finally able to hold that squirmy little thing. I do have to say that one of my first thoughts was that I was glad that I NEVER had to go through another labor and delivery. But now it’s been three months and I’m thinking, eh, it wasn’t that bad.