The last few weeks leading up to my son’s birth were brutal. From bed rest to being in triage three different times, I was beyond ready to meet him. The anticipation of his birth had also starting getting the best of me. I cried many times and went over all the ‘what if’s’ in my head on a nightly basis. I prayed for an easy, fast, natural birth and thankfully God was listening.
At my doctor’s recommendation (along with my bladder, back and hips), I decided to get induced on my actual due date of November 25th. I was concerned about being induced, as there is always risk for a cesarean section if your body does not cooperate. I figured at 41 weeks the baby would be fully developed and my small body needed a break – desperately.
I was scheduled to arrive at the hospital at 11:30 am for induction. I dropped my older son off at school and he ran in shouting, “It’s my baby brother’s birthday!” This melted my heart and curbed some of my anxiety. I ate a nice full breakfast so I wouldn’t be starving, did my hair and makeup and headed to the hospital. Yes, I did my hair and make up. A girl needs to feel pretty right?
Once we arrived we had to wait for a room for half an hour. It almost felt like I was checking into a hotel. I had enough bags with me to seem that way. By the way – there are very few things you need to take with you to the hospital. I should have known better but apparently I thought I would want to wear my own gowns and fix my hair. Not the case (surprise, surprise).
The nurse finally called me back and we got set up in the room. Mentally I knew there were only three things I was dreading, if I could get past those I would be fine. The first was the IV. Getting IV’s in your hands is miserable – totally faint worthy. I warned the nurse I was a fainter and IV’s grossed me out. With that in mind she really focused on making it as painless as possible and it worked! I barely felt it. One thing down, two more to go.
Next I was terrified of the doctor breaking my water bag. I have heard mixed reviews on this so I was preparing for the worst. My doctor came in and we discussed what was going to happen next. She warned me after my water bag breaks my contractions would start to come on stronger. I remembered this from last time, so I had my game face on. I also had my trigger finger ready for the epidural. I had no plans on waiting to get one this time around. Hey – I’m not trying to be a martyr, just trying to have a baby. Why put myself through all that pain, right?
My water bag was broken at 1 pm at which time they also started me on Pitocin. I didn’t even feel her break my water. Another thing down, one to go. I looked at the clock and was trying to calculate how long it would be until I could hold my son. I know the second child comes faster and you usually dilate 1 ½ centimeter per hour once you are in active labor. I was hoping to at least have him by 7 pm so my doctor would still be there to deliver him. Nothing worse than shift change while you’re in labor. That happened with my first child and the doctor who came in was not warm and fuzzy by any means. When you are in that much pain, you need warm and fuzzy!
Now it was just the waiting game. My husband was lying down watching Sports Center and I was scrolling the Internet on my phone to try and pass time. Men have it so easy, he was catching up on sports highlights while I was creating life. Doesn’t seem fair sometimes.
About an hour later as I’m scrolling through Facebook, they hit. HOLY Mother of God! I had forgotten how bad contractions actually feel. Oh yes; now I remember – like someone is crushing your pelvis. I allowed myself to have about a dozen to see if I could manage the pain, thenI hit the nurse’s button at 3 pm:
“May I help you?”
“Um yes, I will take that epidural now. As in, as soon as possible.”
“Great, I’ll be right there.”
Part 2 on Friday… Stay tuned!
