For those of you familiar with my blog you know I tell it like it is. So this post won't be any different. I won't fanny about and blow sunshine up your ass about my labor or being a new mom. So if you're pregnant or wish not to hear the grody details pass on this and the next few installments (I'm sure it will take more than one post to catch up).
Charlie is asleep and I should really be taking a much needed shower, as I'm covered in baby barf, but you dear reader come first. Now where was I...
As yes, walking around the house with mild contractions. I was timing them and they were about 5 minutes apart. Paul called the Birth Center to let them know we were coming in soon. Since it was snowing, the contractions were getting a bit closer and I was sort of in pain we decided to start heading to the hospital. It's now 7:00am Sunday morning. The drive there sucked! Contractions on bumps are no good. When you first arrive they take you to triage to get you booked in and assess your situation. So we were put into this little room and that's when I was told that I had high blood pressure. They wanted to wait to see if it would go down on it's own so Paul and I spent the first three hours, yes THREE hours, in labor in this tiny room. Only to be told that my blood pressure is not going down and I will not be having this baby in the Birthing Center due to that fact. Dream one dashed. Also I find out it's the busiest morning they have ever had and the birth center and delivery suite are totally full of other ladies having other babies.
Now at this point my contractions are getting pretty bad. I'm at the crying out loud stage and I'm only 2 centimeters dilated. They have to get us out of triage but have no where for me to go since you can't even step foot on the delivery suite until you are at least 3 centimeters. So I get put in a wheelchair and taken onto the postnatal ward! Here I am in full on labor and I'm surrounded by new moms and their sleeping babies. It was like trying to give birth in the library. And to make matters worse it was visiting time so there were loads of dudes there too! I was trying to be as quiet as possible when the contractions hit but it was nearly impossible to keep from at least moaning loudly. I was so self conscience of being too loud it was horrible!!! I was starting to get pretty out of it and could not figure out why they had put me in such an unkind, quiet place full of so many other people staring at me.
Paul got a midwife to take my blood pressure again and it was even higher (yeah, big shock! I'm trying to stifle contractions!!!!) so they put me in another wheelchair and I was finally taken onto the delivery suite and put in my own room. It was a big room and the first thing I remember seeing was a little cot being prepared for the baby. And I thought "Oh wow! I'm actually going to have my baby in here, I'm so close to meeting him!"
From here on out the story gets pretty hazy for me. I remember some of it and some was recounted to me by Paul and some was probably just a hallucination. The contractions are really getting strong and I'm only having gas and air (which by the way was fantastic, I would highly recommend it). I'm not dilating very fast and I'm only 3 centimeters. They offer me some pethidine and like a teenage kid lookin' for kicks I jump at the chance to get some drugs.
Now I know I was all about the natural childbirth and going drug free. But then I went into labor. And let me tell you, that shit is no joke. It hurts just as much...no make that MORE, than everyone tells you. They say "it's like really bad period pain." What?!!? It's more like being stabbed over and over and over again in your stomach. I swear labor must feel different for different women. Cause there was no freaking way a massage, smelly candles or a warm bath were ever gonna touch the sides of what hellish pain I was feeling. No way. So a big sorry to anyone I may have disappointed but I was out of my mind with pain. Self preservation took over and spoke for me.
So they stick me with a needle in my thigh and then the world gets drunk. Really drunk. I would not recommend pethidine. It made me feel tired but unable to sleep, out of control and caused me to speak in tongues. It didn't really help with the pain even. I was still on the gas and air and still suffering big time.
Now let's take a moment to look at Paul's role in all this. I have come to a few stead fast decisions since my hard labour began and one of them was that I could not and would not have a contraction without Paul being right in front of me. Another was that I could not and would not hold the mouth piece for the gas and air, it had to be held for me by Paul. So the contrations are coming hard and fast at this point and with each one I scream for the mouth piece, throw my right arm around Paul's neck, grab and rip his sweater with my other hand, stomp on his feet and scream to high heaven. I mean really scream!!! Which is the wrong thing to do, I know. But I can't tell you how much it hurts.
The only thing I could do sometimes was just let it all out. Other times I was able to mentally control the pain and didn't scream at all. Just sucked on the gas and air and visualized walking the outer line of the contractions and not letting them take over me. But only after the pethidine wore off could I do that. Back to Paul...he's been getting me through each contraction for hours now and he has to wee and needs to eat. Both of which are long gone for me, I tried to wee into a bed pan but there was no way. So Paul takes a break and I had to make it through contractions on my own. That sucked! His break didn't last long since I was screaming his name to get him back in front of me.
So we're hours and hours into this nightmare and I have just enough brain power to notice that the sun has gone down. So I know I must be at the worst part of first stage labor. Paul and the midwife were trying to get me to labor in other positions but I threw such a fit that it never worked. I would try to lay down but when the next one hit me I would cry and yell "Get me up!!! get me up!!!" There were also a lot of these: "I can't do this anymore!!" "I need a break!!! Just give me a break!!!" "Why are the coming so close together? This isn't fair!"
Now we're really into the fuzzy zone for me. I remember Paul asking the doctor who came to check on me (due to all the yelling I'm sure) if it was normal for me to be staring at one spot for so long. I was concentrating and my pupils were seriously dialated so I looked like a freak.
I remember someone breaking my waters cause I wasn't really getting anywhere. It was like a big pool of warm water spilling out. That helped labor speed up for sure!
I rememeber a doctor having to put a catheter in cause I hadn't had a wee in so long. Not nice.
Then I got to the point where the contrastions still hurt like hell but they made me feel like I had to have a big poo. I really wanted to push! So I got into a pushing position on all fours and I thought "This is it! I made it through all that and now I get to push him out and forget all about this awfulness." Then my contractions slowed way down. And there I am, ass in the air with a midwife lookin' at my bits for any sign of a head (worst job ever!). And Pauls there giving me loads of encouragement and I have nothing to push. More than a little frustrating. When I did get one it hurt so much to push that sometimes I would fake it! It just seemed like I had nothign to push out, there was nothing there. And I was right. Charlie decided to get his head stuck before moving into the final stage.
A doctor came in and tried to examine me but I was totally biligerant, shieking and acting like a child by throwing myself all over the bed and yelling "No! It hurts! Stop It!" A low point in the whole experience to be honest.
Next thing I know there are all these people in the room and a very serious looking doctor comes and tries to talk to me between contractions. She gives me the bad news about the baby being stuck. She says one of two things will now happen. Neither of which are having my baby natrually. Dream number two dashed. I will be wheeled into the theater and she will stick her hand up my hoo-ha and feel the baby's head and:
A: if it's in a good position, give me an episiotomy (the worst thing known to woman kind) and try the ventouse (baby vacuum) and if it doesn't work after three tries I have a c-section.
B: if it's in a bad position I have a c-section.
What will happen next? Will I have a cone head baby? Will I punch a nurse? Will Paul's sweater ever look the same again? Tune in next time to find out...