The Idiots Guide To: Labor and Delivery

**Note to readers....this is a long one. You may want to come back when you have more time, or make a pit stop in the bathroom before you start.**

Part I

I said last week sometime, that I was gonna do a post on this day telling the story of the 24 hours or so leading up to the birth of my firstborn. Today he is 6 years old, and on his birthday, I always re-live this story. I know that most birth stories are boring when they're not your own, but I wanna share it because it's special to me and sort of quirky, like me. It may not be the funniest story, or the most suspenseful story, or maybe even the most interesting story, but, to me? It's the BEST story. And I'm lucky enough to have two BEST stories. So, without further ado...

Six years ago today, I was in the beginning stages of labor with my first born. Scared? Yep. Excited? Yep. A little bit sick to my stomach? Yep. For now, anyway. Pretty soon the pain would come and I would no longer be able to feel it if I WAS sick to my stomach. To fully appreciate this story, I must go back. Not just six years, but around six years and 2 days. That should be far enough.

My sister and sister in law were planning a lovely baby shower for me on the 31st of May. Since I wasn't due until June 23rd, we figured the end of May would be just perfect. I actually figured I wouldn't have the baby until the very beginning of July or so, because, if what they say is true and you tend to have pregnancies and deliveries that closely match your own mother's, then this baby would surely be late by a couple of weeks. (snort...yeah...right.)

So my baby shower was held on Saturday, May 31st. It was a gorgeous day...perfect temperature, the sun was shining, we actually held the shower on my mom and dad's newly built, covered deck. Mostly my family was at this shower, because my co-workers held a separate shower for me on May 15th at work. My mom's co-workers were there and I received really lovely gifts from everyone. My sister and sister in law know what a dweeb I am, and anticipating the fact that I would lose all of the baby shower games, they bought me a prize anyway. They know me so well! They knew I would be upset if I couldn't win a freakin' prize at my own baby shower.
The next day was a Sunday, and for some reason my husband and I were really getting antsy about getting the rest of the stuff we would need for when we brought baby home. So we went shopping to everything that we hadn't already received from my showers. There wasn't much to get. Bottles, nipples, Dreft laundry detergent, etc. We came home and I started doing baby laundry. I figured I might as well get it all washed and put in baby's dresser so it would be ready. The only thing I had left to do was pack a hospital bag. (insert forboding music here...)

At around 7:25 p.m. as I was sitting on the floor of my beautiful Winnie the Pooh nursery, folding teeny tiny baby clothes, I peed my pants. Just a little bit. You know how it is when you're pregnant, it seems like you're peeing your pants all the time? Morning sickness? You pee your pants. Laughing? Pee. Coughing, sneezing? Pee. Breathing?? Pee! I leaned over to grab some socks and...you guessed it. I peed! I'm thinking: Whatever, I'm so tired of always peeing, I'm just gonna finish this little outfit and then I'm gonna go take a shower.

Now, if I'm being totally honest, there was something a little different about this. I couldn't exactly tell where that "gush" came from. It was a small one, and it was in the general vicinity of the area where one may find that they've peed on themselves. And I was still over 3 weeks away from my due date, so there was NO way that my water had just broke. Besides...my mom's water never broke, they had to do it at the hospital, and since I was using her labor as a map for my own, my water wouldn't break until they did it for me at the hospital. Right?
Right. So, I went and took a shower, got all of my stuff ready for work the next day and went to bed. Around 5:20 in the morning I woke up with my usual urge to barf up everything I ate the day before, and I noticed a big wet spot on the bed. Uh-oh. Houston...we have a problem. The following conversation takes place between my husband and I.

Me: "Uh...I don't know since I've never done this before, but the bed is really wet. Maybe my water broke last night when I thought I peed my pants...again."

Husband: "If your water broke, wouldn't there be a lot more, well, water?"

Me: "Yeah, you're probably right. I didn't get up to go to the bathroom at all last night, which is strange, so I wonder if I just slept right through peeing the bed or something...?"

Husband: "Hm." (helpful, isn't he?)

Me: "I think I may call the Dr. anyway and see if they can check me. 'Cuz this is kinda weird. I'll just call work and let em know I'll be late and then make an appt. with the doc."

Husband: "What should I do? Go to work or stay home and go with you?"

Me: "Just go to work. Definitely. I'm sure they're gonna laugh at me and tell me that I peed on myself...again...if I actually DID need to be admitted or my water broke for real, I'll call you."

Husband: "K."

(note here that for some reason I can't recall, husband was only working a half day that day and would be going to the grocery store after he left work. This is where my family would track him to when they need him.)

Fast forward to a few hours later. I drive myself to the Dr. and sit in the waiting room badgering myself about how I'm an idiot, I peed my pants, they're gonna laugh at me, etc. Worry about leaving a wet spot on the chair, because even though I haven't done that yet, I'm sure that I will now that I'm in public, just to deepen the humiliation.

They call me back and I "hop up" (yeah, like a pregnant woman can hop.) and they do the exam. They take "samples" and send them to the little lab they have. At this point, my mom is furious that I drove myself here and that my water may have broke, I may be going into labor and my husband went to work. You have to remember though, I told him to go. I didn't trust my own observations and handle on the situation.

Right when the Dr. comes back into the room and tells me I'm not an idiot, my water DID break, and I need to go to the hospital right away since it had been 13 hours since it broke, my husband walks in. Thank God. My mom had called the cell phone and gotten hold of him and told him he really should meet me at my apptointment, just in case. Thanks, mom.

You could tell by the look on his face that he was way scared about this. It was 3 weeks early, my water had broke and I had missed it. How the hell am I going to have this baby and then be able to take care of him, if I MISSED the sign that he was on his way? I missed a very fundamental thing here.

**Since I've been talking a lot about pee, you might wanna go and pee now. I'll wait....**
Part II
Now we're at the hospital. It's only around 10:30 in the morning and they tell me to put the robe on and settle in for a while. So I do. I haven't ever been checked into the hospital for anything, so I was sort of an idiot about it. It wasn't until they came to do the first of about a zillion checks that I realized I had messed up. I had put the gown on...over my underwear and bra. I guess I was thinking I could keep some sort of modesty in this situation. This is how I knew how stupid I was. The nurse goes, "Uh, Macey, unless you want your baby wearing your underwear as a hat, you gotta take em off." Oh...yeah. That makes sense.Fine.
So now I'm nekkid underneath the gown. Ew. I had my husband call my sister and ask her to come down to the hospital and grab the groceries (which my husband had paid for before he came to the Dr., either smart or jack-assy, you decide) and take em home and put em away for us. She did. She came right down and got the keys from my husband and forseeing a long day ahead of them, she said that after she dropped the groceries off, she'd get some food so that they would be prepared for the day. Here's the conversation that took place between my sis and husband. I was starting to feel some labor pains here and this might be the last conversation I remember before I die, it is that etched into my brain.
Sister: (talking to husband) "So what do you want me to bring back?"

Husband: "I don't want anything."

Sister: "We don't know how long it's gonna be, she's only dilated to 1, you're gonna need to eat."
Husband: "But I'm not hungry now."
Sister: "Yes, I know, you're not hungry NOW, but you will be. Maybe I'll get some crackers and stuff we can keep here so you can eat when you get hungry."

Husband: "Well, whatever you want then."

Sister: "What do you like?"

Husband: "Oh, I don't care."

Sister: "Well, I don't wanna get something you won't eat."

Let me interject here: "Why don't you just get some cheez-its or something for now, he likes those. And they're easy." (i'm really starting to feel the pain here, and the back and forth between my sister and husband is starting to get on my nerves, because neither one wants to make a decision. on a day i'm NOT in labor, it would irritate the crap outta me.)

Sister: "So, I'll get cheez-its. Do cheez-its sound good?"
Husband: "No, I don't want anything. If Macey can't eat anything, I don't want to be eating in front of her." (aw, sweet.)

Me again: "Well, it's gonna be a long day, you have to eat. I don't want you passing out from hunger. Really, it's ok, get something."

Sister: "Maybe you just want me to go through a drive through and get something for you now, and then you won't be hungry later."

Husband says nothing.

Sister: upping the ante, "I could get some candy too. Do you like M&M's? Do you like the ones with or without nuts?"

Husband: "Oh, I don't care."

Now I'm getting sick of this. She's trying to be nice and take care of him, so he can take care of me. He's trying to be nice by not eating in front of me. All this niceness is making me freakin' sick and it's making labor feel even worse. I may have yelled at this point. I don't remember. "JUST GO AND GET SOMETHING IDON'TCAREWHATITIS ANDIFHEDOESN'TEAT IT AND PASSESOUTWHEN I AM HAVING THE BABYIWILLKILLHIM!!! AND HE DOESN'T LIKE M&M'S WITH NUTS!!" Whew.

So she left (she's such a good sister!)and did our grocery errand and got some food...I think. By the time she got back, a couple hours later, my labor pains had really kicked in because they had given me that evil drug they call pitocin, and I was asking for the epidural. Yes, you heard me. I'm a big 'ole wuss and I asked for an epidural. In fact, the day I found out I was pregnant, I asked for an epidural. I'm not ashamed either.

Anyway, when she got back, I don't know exactly what was going on. I do know that I wasn't progressing quickly. I think I had been there around 5 hours and had gone from 1 cm to 3 cm's. Epidurals are famous for slowing labor down, but since I'd been at it for about 7 hours at this point, I didn't care. I just wanted the pain to quit. By this time my parents had arrived and my dad was having tons 'o fun watching the contraction monitor. Oy. He'd share the numbers it was spitting out with us. "Oh, wow, Macey, this one must be bad, it's shooting up from...oh wow! 50 to 120 like that! Holdin' steady...oh it's starting to go down, 120, 115, 105.....now it's 70, 55...that must have been a bad one huh?" I love you, dad. But right about now? You're number 3 on my list of "People I wanna Kill." Husband and sister's previous exchange had led them to the 1 and 2 spots.
They called the anesthesiologist. Let me tell you about him. He was at least 6 feet tall. Silvery hair, but not an "old man" silver. A really nice silver. The kind that a woman in severe pain may mistake for a silver halo in her time of need. This magical Dr. came in and shook my hand and introduced himself as Lars. Lars is kind of a weird name to me, but at that minute, it was the purtiest name I've ever heard. He had me get in a really uncomfortable position to administer this "miracle drug." And it took FOREVER. And by the time he was done, I was pretty sure he was Satan, and I wanted him gone. And then just like that, he was done. While he collected his tools and stuff, I sat back, tried to relax. Eventually, the medication started working and I was in heaven...I didn't feel anything from the waist down! I'm not sure if I did this, it seems like I must have dreamed it... but I could swear I asked this guy to marry me at this point. Maybe not. I'm sure if I did, he was really flattered. How many times a day do you think he gets proposed to by fat, pregnant, sweaty, red in the face, frizzy haired women? Probably more than you know.

Not only was I in heaven, I was floating around in my head feeling really good. Somewhere in the distance I heard this loud voice and I opened my eyes. Coming towards me were about 6 nurses and they had tubes and a syringe and scary ass stuff aimed at me. I closed my eyes again. I wanted to be floating off wherever it was that I was before. Eventually, I kind of came to and noticed I had an oxygen mask on my face and there were a bunch of concerned looking ladies standing around my bed. My family was gone except for my husband. Huh? What the heck happened?

Well, I guess epidurals tend to make your BP drop. So, that's what happened, and they came in and gave me a shot to get it up really quick and gave me some oxygen.

Part III

My ob-gyn who had been coming in and out all day to check my progress, came for her last visit. She was leaving at 7 p.m. because she was actually 8 months pregnant herself. She checked and in all that time, from about 8 a.m. till about 7 p.m. I was only at 3 1/2 cm's. Argh. I practically bawled. I told her to just do a c-section. Get it done. I was tired of it and the epidural medication wasn't being administered liberally and I was feeling stuff since the labor had all but stopped and they wanted to jump start it. When the Dr. explained to me that it really was my choice at that point, since I wasn't really progressing much, and explained what all would happen with a c-section, I decided I'd wait it out. I didn't want any part of that c-section business, if I could help it. My family left to get something to eat.

The head nurse told my personal nurse to give me a bolus (is that what she said?) of meds if I complained of pressure. Because at this point, I was having contractions, but the urge to push was really strong. Considering I was dilated to a 3, it wasn't a good idea to have me wanting to push. The nurse continued to monitor the fetal heart rate, and just watch over the machines while I actually tried to take a nap. The lights were low and I swear, I think my husband fell asleep. Leave it to the man to fall asleep while his wife is in labor. I didn't nap, (who could?), but I relaxed.

At 10:20 the Dr. on call came and checked me. I had settled in for a long night. Before, I was worried and tense that things weren't going right. Once I decided that when it was time, it was time and that I couldn't really control it, I relaxed and dug deep, preparing to wait it out. All that relaxing must have kicked it in motion because from 7:30 to 10:20 I dilated the remaining 7 cm's. He said, "Well, you're ready, lets get this show on the road!" I practically "whooped" out loud!

I won't really go into too much with the actual delivery, because I only remember a few key points. I remember they made me stop pushing because baby's heart rate kept going down, and that scared me. I remember them giving me oxygen to help the baby. I remember seeing the Dr.'s arms practically flailing about like he was conducting an orchestra, trying to get the baby out. I remember (and this is the scariest part for me) that he tried the vacuum thingy and it didn't work and he said he'd have to use forceps if it was alright with me. I knew I had been at it for about 35 minutes and judging by the way the Dr. was moving, I was getting the feeling that it was pretty darn important to get this little guy born right away. So I said, "Yes, whatever you have to do." (Ooh, I should mention here that they had shut the epidural off when the Dr. said I was ready, so I actually was beginning to feel a lot of the stuff in that area; but my legs were totally dead! [sarcasm here])

At this point my husband actually asks me this in a totally amazed sort of voice:"Are you seeing this?" You know how they bend you like a pretzel when you're having a baby? Well, the answer is "Yes, I could see it, but I choose not to because I can FEEL it, and that's MORE than enough."

I looked up at the nurse behind the Dr. and she's getting some stuff ready on a surgical table. She lifts up a blue towel thingy and picks up a GINORMOUS SCARY TOOL that looks like freakin' salad tongs!!! And the Dr. grabs em! And he comes at me with em!! And I swear, I would've screamed if I had any energy left at all.

I felt something really sharp and I remember saying "Ow." And the Dr. says, "You can feel that?" Uh...yeah. He was surprised, but it didn't really matter, we were in a hurry. After that he gave the scary tool back to the nurse and I never saw it again...thank God. Then the Dr. said push, I pushed and I saw this teeny tiny bottom in the Dr.'s hands. My baby!!!! And the Dr. turned him right side up and you know what my baby did? He peed! I saw it but it didn't register what was happening, so when the Dr. told me that he peed on him, I said the only thing I could think of, "Good!!" I'm not sure that was an appropriate response, but who cared at that point?

So, lots of yucky stuff happened after this...you can guess, I'm sure. Stitches, humiliations, apparently a major blood loss, which wasn't usual, but you do the math...forceps + small spaces = not so pleasant injuries. (did I mention I COULD FEEL??)

Finally (FINALLY!!!) everything is done and they hand me my gorgeous baby! He was so tiny. Teeny tiny. Weighed in at just under 5 lbs. But he was healthy. And his head was only a little pointy. He looked like a little elf to me, a cute little elf. His hair was sort of strawberry blond. I held him until I realized that he wasn't on my chest anymore, he had slid down to my side. I had lost so much blood that I wasn't able to keep my arms up where they needed to be to hold him well. But I was so tired, I didn't even notice.
My little guy didn't even cry when he was born. It was like he was in absolute shock to be here. I didn't hear him cry until the next morning around 7. When I think of his birth, it makes sense to me. He was in a hurry to get here, over 3 weeks early. My water broke and he must have said, "Huh? What the...? I am NOT going out there!" And it took over 24 hours before he was born.

He's like that now. He's so excited and gung ho to do something and then at the last minute, he slams on the brakes and changes his mind. When it starts to get on my nerves, I remind myself, he's been like this from the very beginning. He was literally born with this trait.

I may have been the only new mommy on the planet to get so much sleep after having her baby. I ended up in a recovery room that was linked with the supply closet, so it was VERY disruptive and not conducive to rest. When I got home, though, I slept all the time. I didn't even hear the little guy cry in the night for the first two weeks. I know, I know...convenient huh? But let me tell you, the guilt that I felt was huge. I just couldn't get back to normal. It took about 12 weeks for my blood levels to be where they were supposed to, and still, I felt exhausted and sick. In case you're wondering, he had to be on a bottle because even though I had decided to bottle feed (gasp, I know) with the blood loss, breast feeding was no longer an option. Never even became available, if ya know what I mean.

So, that is my story. The story of the absolute BEST and most scary day of my life. I don't know why I love sharing this story. I just do...from the moment he was born I knew I would do it again a thousand times just for that one little glimpse of that perfect little face. I even told my sister about a half hour after he was born, "I would highly reccommend that. Every woman should be able to do this if she wants." (i don't know if I mentioned here that I was totally loopy and out of it at this juncture.)

All of those little parts of the story, my sister and husband bantering over lunch, my dad monitering the contraction moniter...they may be inconsequential, but they stick out in my mind. I will always remember them. I think partly because knowing that they were there makes it even better. To know that my family loved me enough to forfiet their day, to pace in the waiting room and worry, so that they could see this little guy who was already so special to all of us, is awesome. I guess I like re-living this day because it takes me back to a really awesome day. The day that I FINALLY realized why I am here. To be this little miracle's mommy.And because, as you know, I can't let go, I will hold him as my 5 year old all day.

He is 6 today, but since he wasn't born until 11:26 p.m., I'm keeping him 5 in my heart until then.
2 interesting side notes:1. The next day, I was still in my recovery room, and one of the o.b. Dr.'s was doing rounds and walked past my room. I immediately recognized his pinched little face and motioned for him to come into my room. He had told me a week earlier that I wasn't anywhere near giving birth and that my baby would be an "average garden variety" baby. Pfft. This Dr. was so offensive, he had the worst bedside manner. Like we weren't smart enough to know that the baby lives in amniotic fluid, NOT a swimming pool. Like we would appreciate being told to get up on the table and "spread em like a froggy." Like we would enjoy our body parts being described as "tight as a button hole." Seriously, these are the things he said to his patients. Anyway, I call him in, and I think I may have called him something close to an idiot. I don't remember, cause it was all sorta foggy after I had the baby...but I remember telling him he shouldn't say things like "garden variety" to a mommy who is anxiously awaiting a miracle. I just know he left looking really pissed off. And I've never been referred to him again. Ha!
2. My dad told me that after I had the baby, he saw the Dr. who delivered, walking down the hall, eating a Subway sandwich. EW!! Who the heck could eat after that? I was horrified at the entire situation, how come he wasn't?! I guess he sees it all the time...but still, a Subway sandwich? Yuck.For all of you who stuck it out and made it this far...thank you.
He may be 6 today, but he'll always be my baby.