(Birth story, not quilting, so feel free to skip if you don't want to hear about labor!)
On December 14, I woke up at 4:30 to feed the chickens one last time before my (hopefully) six week break from animal chores. We left for the hospital shortly after 5, got checked in, and started preparing for my induction. I know a large number of women who are rather appalled that I have been induced 5 out of 6 times (and the Assistant missed being induced by mere hours), but I have a comfy uterus, and don't go into labor.
The first trauma was trying to get an IV placed. I have "bad" veins, and they're even worse when I'm told not to take anything by mouth after midnight. If there is a next time, I'm drinking a few cups of water before going, regardless of instructions. One vein blew, and the second was sketchy at best. On with the program.
I made sure to ask the protocol for pain medicine in my IV since I didn't want an epidural but wanted the option for a little pain relief. The nurse, fortunately, knew the rules and told me two hours before delivery was the cutoff, not four like the doctor said. (By the time I ask for pain medicine, there's definitely not four hours left.)
Several hours in, I asked for pain medicine. Even after getting the IV medicine, I fe;lt overwhelmed by labor. (Miss G had been born with the cord tight around her neck, so it had become an emergency to push her out as fast as possible. It was scary, even though she was fine in the end.) I'm pretty sure I was leaking amniotic fluid, and that should have warned me delivery was dramatically close. I was only dialated to five, so I was afraid I had several hours of labor left. Ha!
I had made a deal with myself that I could make it through 120 contractions and surely the baby would be born by then. Yes, I'm a crazy lady, and once the contractions hurt, I estimate how many are left and tell myself I can make it that far. I was at 60, and just felt too tired to face another 60.
I asked for an epidural, despite my fear of needles anywhere near my spine. The anesthesiologist did a fabulous job, despite getting called away twice for a bigger emergency. Do you know how hard it is to sit still during contractions? I've never had to sit up during labor, on the side of my bed, without moving my arms and legs. About this time, I started feeling a little "pushy," which really meant I was in transition and about to deliver. The trouble, every time, is that I don't remember that. I should have said something right away, because I pretty much went from 5cm to fully dialated and from -3 to having a baby in less than 40 minutes. My doctor, had they asked him, would have rushed over from his office. But anyway, that didn't happened.
As the epidural started to take effect, I was still feeling piercing pains on the right side, in my hip. They kept telling me it would take a little bit to numb up. Meanwhile, to accommodate the epidural, they pump in an extra bag of fluids. As the nurse (who was amazing) was squeezing the bag to hurry it along, my vein with the IV decided it had endured enough, and my hand ballooned. They turned off the IV, and the nurse was preparing to replace it (quickly). I felt a tickle on my leg, but thought nothing of it, since my legs were pretty numb.
People were starting to come in the room to prep for delivery, but I was still laying on my side in the bed, without any preparations made for delivery. They hadn't called my doctor yet. You see where this is going, don't you?
Another anesthesiologist, who has attended five of my births, came in and immediately told the nurse to check me. The nurse said she would, after she fixed my IV. The anesthesiologist said no, right away. I felt another tickle on my leg. They lifted the sheets, and there was Pete, born except for his feet.
DH managed to contaminate the whole tray of birthing supplies by grabbing the wrong clamp for the cord.
There was crazy excitement and significant mess since my water broke all over the bed, but since I was on my side lying down, it all blew past me. I do remember when they placed Pete on my chest, and I was craning my neck to see him. I could tell he was tiny. They had to change all my sheets, and haul me around since I was numb from the waist down. Good times.
It turns out he was only 7 pounds, 13 ounces, with a 14 inch head, born about 11:53 am.
Another nurse tried to place a new IV to finish my pitocin and fluids, but it blew, and they determined it was okay not to try again. Yay! It was really nice to have no IV during the rest of my hospital stay. When my doctor arrived, he apparently said, "Idiots!" and laughed. No stitches, although there must have been a tear in my placenta, because they had to check if they got everything out. Score one for the epidural, as I can't even remember the feeling of being checked, and I know that hurts like Hades.
So, sneaky Pete arrived without a conscious push on my part. It turned out he was tongue-tied, but our family doctor clipped it later that evening. No problems, no difficulties. He's a fabulously content baby in spite of all the drama of a house of eight!
For those of you who were waiting for this post, I apologize. It took significantly more thought and time than my usual posts, and then I couldn't finish it on the iPad once it was too long. Here it is, finally!
from the room of Zana's Ninis,
katie z.
