Baby Blase

With induction looming on the horizon I invested in a downloadable book on acupressure to induce naturally. This was Thursday. Being the skeptics we are Marc and I skimmed it but, didn’t even really try anything until Friday. The book suggested doing each of the 6 or so pressure points for a few minutes each, every two hours. Friday, in between cramming in all the unfinished work I could (Kylie’s invites got done! Some DudeGirl designs! And other miscellaneous items that were hanging over my head and keeping the little dude from arriving.) we did all of them maybe five or six times. Then on Saturday at least three times before we ventured out into the heat. The book was worth it – even if it had nothing to do with making the kid come, at least we felt like we were contributing to progress… Although, only 3 days earlier the doc told us that we had had no progress and she really didn’t think anything was going to happen naturally – so, who knows.

Saturday began with us getting some stuff done around the house – I think I was forcing myself to nest… trying to trick my body. Then we went downtown – probably a 5 mile walk over the course of the day in the heat.

Marc was worried that it was too hot, too long of a walk and too much for my big ol’ body to handle, but, once we were down the street, I told him – we’re going to make this kid come this weekend.

After stopping in on the Mellow Johnny’s party we went to Hut’s for fried okra, onion rings and burgers – I thought a nice shock to the system might also help get things started. Sure enough that night while hanging out watching TV at 9:30pm, I started to get cramps. Marc continued the acupressure that night. I remember he did the mid-shoulder point for a few really long stretches and the cramps got notably stronger when he did. This really could be happening.

We went to sleep pretty late. Marc took a shower and I played sudoku in bed and felt the cramps come every 6 or 7 minutes. They were mild but, I believe I could feel things moving/changing/”ripening” (yeah – eew – but, that’s the technical term) in my gut. At 2:30am I woke Marc up. This IS happening.

That night every 5-10 minutes I’d ask Marc to wake up and pinch the pressure point between my thumb and first finger to help ease the pain of the contractions (we knew for sure at this point that these weren’t just “cramps”). It totally worked (for a few hours at least). By 5:30am I told Marc we had to get up – laying down was no longer an option. We ate a little breakfast, watched TV while the contractions continued – about 5 minutes apart, albeit fairly mildly. This lasted until about 10:30am. We were told we could head to the hospital when contractions were 5 minutes apart, longer than a minute each for 1-2 hours. But, we hesitated, because this couldn’t be what all the fuss was about – these contractions, while uncomfortable, were totally manageable. A minute of pain that stopped me in my tracks, but, I could easily move through the pain and with a little massage from Marc was just fine. So, I called the nurse on call to ask what we should do, while Marc consulted the interwebs — we got the same advice from both sources. Keep changing your activity: walk: time four contractions – eat: time four contractions – rest: time four contractions – repeat… So, we did as we were told – we walked the neighborhood at least 6 times. This proved to be more confusing. The contractions got more painful, but, more irregular, although all still under eight minutes apart. That was until 8pm – then for an hour, five minutes apart for about 1-1.5 minutes this was it. This is LABOR.

At 9:00pm I’d had about enough – almost 24 hours – approximately 240 contractions – about 4 hours sleep.

I called the nurse again with an update. She told us to head to the hospital and hope that we’d made enough progress to stay there. I actually didn’t think there would have been enough progress. Marc showered, packed the car, cleaned the cat litter, fed the cats and I walked around trying to help while intermittently doubled over in pain. We got to the hospital at about 9:30pm. Marc asked if I wanted a wheelchair and I refused – partly because I thought I’d be more comfortable walking and partly because I didn’t want to give into the pain. I can handle this dammit. But, as we walked through the entrance an exiting older couple saw me grab onto the empty reception desk for support as I breathed my way through a contraction. They turned around and brought a wheelchair shooting Marc a what-kind-of-man-are-you-making-your-wife-walk-while-she-is-in-this-state — shame-on-you-look. Not having enough energy to refuse them I got in the chair. Marc wheeled me around the corner where I got up out of it and walked the rest of the way. He’s the kind of man who knows exactly what his wife needs thank you very much.

We checked into our room and just kind of stood there.

Looking at the baby-warmer contraption – thinking that soon there could be a child laying/screaming/covered-in-goo on it that belonged to us – that came from us.

A nurse told me to strip down to nothing and put on the gown. I did and got in the bed, got hooked up to monitors and waited for another contraction after which I got checked – 3cm. I was totally bummed. 2 cm!? After all that walking!? After all that fried food!? After 24 hours of contractions!? But, sensing my disappointment the nurse quickly reassured us “You just bought yourself a trip to the hospital.”

“We can stay?”

“Yep.” Apparently the first 4cm are the hardest, so we did good.

I needed an IV for antibiotics for Group B Strep. (Aside from pushing the little monster’s head out – this was the WORST part of the entire process). I was stuck 3 times before they got the IV in successfully – even now, I have a 3″x1.5″ bruise on my lower left arm where the IV went in and then fluid was pumped in to my arm – not the vein – lovely.

We were in there for another hour until the on-call doctor from our doc’s practice came in to talk progress and medication options. There was a cocktail of drugs to “take the edge off”, which we passed on. And then we talked epidural. I was still unsure at this point, but, I was really tired and a nap sounded good. So, I took the easy way out and boy was it easy… great doctor, a few pricks and my lower half checked out. Luckily, I actually still had a good amount of feeling and could lift and move my legs quite a bit, but, the pain was gone.

Marc and I slept for a few hours.

Without my knowledge they laced my IV with pitocin. They didn’t tell me or ask. But, with the epidural, it is pretty much inevitable. Towards the end, the kid’s heart rate was dropping with every contraction – could mean that the cord was wrapped around his neck. They gave me an internal monitor so they could watch it more closely and oxygen to hopefully help keep the kid alive. I was claustrophobic with that mask on but, when I knew that the cord could be around his tiny neck I sucked on that thing for hours obsessively watching the monitor during every contraction and tried to shift my body slightly – like I could take some of the pressure off him. Whatever we were doing worked because his heart rate only dipped below the red line a couple times after that and that seemed to satisfy the doc and nurses, so the c-section talk died down.

The pressure was building – no pain – but, A LOT of pressure even through the drugs. I couldn’t sleep anymore. I was checked and it was indeed time. It was 4:45am – the nurse told us we’d probably have a baby by 5:45am – she was almost dead-on.

I won’t go into the whole pushing part because, well, it sucked.

But, he did eventually come out. The cord was indeed wrapped around his neck, but, he was fine. In fact, more than just fine – his APGAR score was 8-9. Marc cut the cord, and I held his gooey, sticky body as he cried right into my face.

It took a minute, but, then a rush of absolute joy, relief, love for this tiny creature and a new found love for my amazing husband came over me. He is perfect. We did it. Family.

Listening: {{{ Sunset }}}