I think I'll always have a hard time answering the question, "when did you go into labor?", or "how long were you in labor with Andrew?". It mostly started on Tuesday, April 26th. I had a doctor's appointment Tuesday morning, and as I was driving downtown to it, I had the strongest feeling that I needed to get everything finished in the next couple of days, because I would have the baby by the end of the week. I'd been having increasingly strong contractions, and had had a few other signs that labor was nearing. At my appointment, she recommended that I have my membranes stripped. I said was fine with that, so she went ahead with it. The rest of the day was quite miserable because the procedure definitely intensified and increased the contractions I was already having. Wednessday I stayed home and cleaned like a maniac, and I still had that feeling it would be soon. And the contractions kept on coming. Thursday and Friday Rob had to be out of town for work. I was really, really nervous about it, even though he was within driving distance. As much as I wanted to have the baby, I was relieved when the contractions slowed a little on Thursday. Thursday morning TJ also woke up sick, and threw up all day. It was a rough day for everyone. By Friday the contractions, although infrequent, were strong enough that I couldn't do much else while I was having one. I didn't dare drive anywhere that day, and was super relieved when Rob made it home that night. I went to a photography class that night, and the teacher took the one real picture of me pregnant with Andrew.
Saturday I sprang up out of bed with loads of energy. We packed up the car and headed downtown to the Arts Festival, went out to lunch, and generally had a nice day. That afternoon we went to the park to practice what I'd learned at my photography class while TJ played, and then we picked up take-out. I'd tried to stay busy enough all day to ignore whatever was going on with my body, but as we walked in the door, I suddenly wasn't so sure I'd be able to eat. All that night the contractions continued, although they never established a regular pattern, but they did continue slowly building in intensity. Because of the contractions (on top of the pregnancy, and the heartburn, and the bladder, etc etc), I had not been able to sleep more than a few hours a time since about Tuesday. Saturday night I was so exhausted, I just fell into bed, and did okay. Sunday morning the contractions were every 8 minutes apart, and were as strong as anything I'd experienced with my first labor. I'd had alot of bloody show over the past couple of days, so we called Rob's mom and told her to begin the two-hour drive to OKC. We were in a flurry of preparations, packing the car, and readying the house. But by the time Rob's mom arrived, the contractions had STOPPED for the first time in days. I was furious, I was so miserable, and tired of waiting for something to happen. It was a rainy, cold day, so I couldn't even go for a walk. I called the doctor, looking for some sort of reassurance or something (I couldn't help but be worried about the bizarre path the contractions were taking); the doctor on call told me that until the contractions established a regular pattern, and got closer together, nothing was going to happen, and that women could spend WEEKS in the stage I was at. I was devastated, certain I would be pregnant forever, having these erratic contractions that I could neither talk nor drive through. I had Rob drive me to Walmart so I could walk and wallow in my misery (it seemed an appropriate place), since it was too wet to be outside. I walked for a long time, came home, and the day drug on. The contractions resumed just before dinner, but again were irregular and erratic, but still gaining in intensity. I was going nuts, Googling every sign and symptom, and kept coming up with the same result: labor could be hours, days or a week away. I hauled Rob along on another long walk, this time outside. We walked three miles through the neighborhood, and although the contractions never subsided, I felt like they were diminishing in intensity. We all went to bed, and I was so tired, I slept.
I woke up suddenly and completely at 2AM to intense contractions. I turned on my phone to try to time them, but holding myself in a relaxed state was about all I could do, and I was not very successful at it. I knew they were getting pretty close together from the amount of work I was having to do to keep really relaxed and ride through them. I woke Rob up at 3AM and asked him to time for me. He only timed two or three, before jumping out of bed and starting to throw the few remaining things in the car (it was still packed from the Sunday morning false alarm). I was trying to get myself ready, get dressed, get some makeup on, etc, but I was having a really hard time doing anything except holding it together. I remember trying to put my mascara on, and that's when I started shaking. In retrospect, it's easy for me to recognize that I was entering transition, but at the time all I knew was that I could not stop shaking, and it was so hard to get up off the floor. Child's Pose (yoga) felt so good to me, it was all I wanted to do. I could hear Rob telling me that the contractions were 3 minutes apart and I HAD to get to the car, but it was just so hard to get up, and I couldn't bring myself to feel that anything was urgent other than riding the next contraction out. I think he had to half-drag me to the car.
That car ride stands out as the worst part of the entire labor. My back hurt so bad, I couldn't sit, so I hung myself over the top of the seat and rode backwards with my chest against the head rest and my weight on my knees. The dark streets and the lights and the cars on the freeway blurred into my consciousness, and it was so hard to relax, I just held on and tried to breathe. Somehow I was able to get out of the car and walk those endless hospital hallways to L&D. Rob checked me into Triage, and the nurse checked me. I was dialated nearly to a 9, and things started to move pretty fast after that. I was thrown on a gurney (still on hands and knees) pushed into a birthing suite, and there was a flurry of activity all around that I mostly ignored. They briefly made me roll onto my back (AGONY!!!) but I flipped back to my hands and knees the moment I could. I was really deeply involved in the work of labor, but also really disassociated from it. I was aware of the pain, but somehow it wasn't hurting ME, it was hurting another me. My first push broke my water, and it felt so funny hitting my calves and feet. I remember thinking "so much for those socks" and that I was so happy I wasn't wearing my favorite socks, because I was kneeling directly over my heels in a modified wide-kneed child's pose. I heard the doctor come in, and I remember really wanting to see her face before she delivered me (there wasn't time for my own doctor to arrive, so I had never met this lady before). She leaned over the side of the bed and introduced herself, and I went to work. I remember feeling really in control, and knowing it wouldn't last much longer; I was also aware of the way I was screaming my head off with every push. What can I say? It really seemed to help. I could feel the baby moving through my pelvis, and I could feel when I needed to stop and stretch for a moment. I kept thinking about "the ring of fire" I had read about when the baby's head crowns; I didn't think it felt like a ring of fire at all, just really really tight. I remember the feeling of easing the baby through, the feel of the head, the shoulders, the body, the last leg... Done! Deep breath! I could hear the baby crying, I started pulling the darn monitors off my belly, the blood pressure cuff, so I could roll over onto my back for the first time and finally see what was going on in the room around me, see my baby, see Rob beside me, see the nurses... Delivering the placenta was really easy, and happened about 5 minutes (maybe... my grasp of time wasn't so great at the moment) later. The doctor told me I didn't tear at all, and that made me so very very happy.
And they handed my baby over to me. I have to say, he looked worse for the wear after his long, long labor and ride through the birth canal. Poor kid. He latched right on, nursed briefly, and went to sleep shortly after. I threw my socks away, took a shower, and asked for a Motrin.
Compared to TJ's delivery and recovery, this has been the most amazing recovery ever. I went for a walk the day I delivered. Saturday (12 days after delivery) I ran 1/2 mile. I can't get over how great I feel. Sleep-deprived and exhausted? Yes. But I feel GOOD, and like I have the physical strength to tackle this whole motherhood thing ...
And that is the story of how Andrew was born.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)