So it has been 4 months since my last blog, and no, I am not 13 months preggo. I had that baby and boy is that distracting!!! I am back though, and feel like I have to start from where I left off in order to get to where I am.
One thing that I know for sure, is that I was wrong in my last blog. Labor is called labor because that shit is hard!!! My birthing moment was by far the most humbling experience of my life. When it was over the first thing I thought was “note to self… be nicer to my mother.” So everyone loves a good birth story right? Well here is mine… all 19 hours of it.
cast of characters….
Me: mother of bebe
Wes: father of bebe
3:30am-10:30am Around 3:30 in the morning I started to feel cramps. Sort of like period cramps, but considering I hadn’t gotten my period in a hot minute, I wasn’t quite sure what was going on. Not to mention, when you wake up in the middle of the night, you are confused. Since I had never gone into labor, I wasn’t sure if these were contractions, or if I just seriously had to poo. After about an hour, I decided that yes, these were contractions, as there was no need for the afore mentioned evacuation.
Okay kewl. I am officially having my birthing moment. I went down stairs and started timing them. They were 6 minutes apart and I was told to go to the hospital when they are 5 minutes apart for 1 hour. Okay, word. I figured I had time to be in my birthing moment and listen to my Ipod. My dog cuddled up next to me, seemingly fully aware of what was going on, and eventually Wes made me an egg sandwich. So far so good.
10:30am-11am The contractions had maintained at 6 minutes apart for 7 hours, so Wes called the hospital and they told me to come in. We drove there with the sunroof open and music blasting. The warmth of the morning star shining on my face, and I am thinking… “this isn’t so bad…this is a beautiful birthing moment.”
11am-12pm We arrive at the hospital, and meet up with the Doula, Sage. I am still feeling pretty chipper between contractions and we head in. Now this is a small country hospital, so before giving me a room, they wanted to make sure that I was really going to have a baby. I was pretty sure I wasn’t faking it, but okay, sure, test away. The first thing they did was attach the “fetal monitor” to measure contractions. Basically they strap you down to the bed, put some wires and nodes all over your belly, and tell you to relax. Riiiiight. I will give that whole relaxing thing a try when you take this shit off of me and I don’t feel like Frankenstein with wires hanging off my belly.
The nurse asks me to rate my pain from 1-10, and I give it a 5. “I am pretty good at dealing with pain though.” She gave me a sideways glance when I said that, basically letting me know “You don’t know what the fuck you are talking about.” I resented her for this. I was going to be special. I was going to have a painless birth, totally convincing myself this whole labor thing wasn’t that big of a deal. I mean, the contractions didn’t feel like eating M&M’s and ice cream, but they were manageable.
Then the nurse had the amazing idea to check the dilation of my cervix. For those of you who have never experienced this awesome activity, let me walk you through it. First, the nurse snapped on her gloves, and applied a half tube of lube to her hand. Not her finger mind you, her hand. Considering my stone cold sobriety, I found that to be a bit intimidating. Then, she basically fist fucked me until her entire forearm disappeared up to her elbow. God only knows what she was searching for as she measured the openness of my cervix. Let me tell you… this was not as fun as it sounds.
The nurse told me that I was 3 centimeters dilated, and I could go home. “What? You have got to be kidding me? I am not going home right now. I am having this baby today.” Of course I didn’t say any of that, got my things, and went to the car. Now what?
Wes suggested that we go to a park near the hospital and hang out there. That sounded like a plan to me, because I felt like it would really screw with me psychologically to go back home. I was ready to have a baby. I knew the baby was coming, and I didn’t care what that nurse thought. Besides, after a moment like that she could have at least taken my out to dinner and a movie. Continue Reading