*All pictures by the fabulous and talented Miss Heather Keil. Amazing!!*
Doctors can be wrong. Just sayin.
I had an appointment on the 6th with the Dr. who thought G-man’s original due date was the 27th which would have made him over 41 weeks. Overdue. After a second NST, which G passed with flying colors, I explained that by my calculations, he wasn’t due until that day. The 6th. Doc mulled that over, then brought in the U/S and declared his fluid levels “too low” and that he strongly suggested scheduling an induction for the following evening. What the what?
I was freeeeaked out. My previous births were spontaneous and epidural-free. I had fully planned on having another just the same. It’s just how I do things. Induction was not in the cards. Now I had a Dr. breathing down my neck and guilt flying all over the place.
Should I ignore him and continue on my merry pregnant way and risk something happening to my baby? My gosh. I would never forgive myself.
I reluctantly agreed to the induction, which was scheduled for the following evening. I then went home and did everything save downing castor oil to get my labor to kick start on its own. Again, I definitely didn’t feel I was overdue and that G-man was probably doing just fine. But the guilt. Oh the guilt.
The day came and went. The night came and went and still not a contraction in sight. I was so nervous about everything. I knew failed inductions ended up in c-sections which terrified me even more. I don’t like forcing my babies out. They come when they’re ready!
The next morning the husband gave me a blessing. It was sweet and comforting and I knew if I had faith, everything would work out. So I left it up to Him.
The day dragged. I cleaned and prepared and kept trying to get things started in the labor department. Still nothing. But I tried my very best not to stress.
Four o’clock came and the husband and I headed to Labor and Delivery to get the show on the road. It was weird to walk in, NOT in labor and chit chat with the nurses. A little bizarre. That’s not how it should be!
I changed and was set up in the bed. Monitors were placed. The plan was to insert a gel called Cervidil to help my cervix along. The previous morning there was nothing to speak of in that department. It was very very high and tightly closed. Boo. The gel would be left in overnight and then I would be assessed come morning time.
And then by something no less than a miracle, I started to contract. At first I thought they were Braxton Hicks. But no, they got stronger. The nurse, who was still working on admitting me, asking all those mundane questions, just stared at the monitor.
“Are you having contractions?”
"Do the hurt?”
“Actually…yes. They do!”
It was all quite funny. She asked if I down Pitocin on the way over. She let me off the monitors and I was able to walk around and around the hospital to keep up the contractions. They would come every 5 minutes. Then every 2, then back to 5, then every 6-7. I was frustrated they weren’t coming in any regular format. Yet, they hurt and I was so happy about it!
I continued to walk around with KC (the husband..duh) and I even did step ups on random tables to up the ante.
After a couple hours I was back in the room. The nurse needed to check to see if those contractions were actually doing something.
They were. I was open to 3 cm!
The Dr. strolled in a little while later and said something to effect of, “There is no way you just willed yourself into labor.”
He nixed the Cervidil and said I still had to be monitored. He then left for the night.
After a couple more hours, and after a lot more walking the contractions stopped. I would have one maybe every 10 minutes but it was looking grim.
The nurse said she would try to persuade the Dr. into letting me go home to get things going again on my own. She said it was early labor and I could be there for hours and hours.
No can do, said the Doc. I had to stay. Even better, I had to be put on Pitocin. Awesome.
By this time it was 10 pm. The nurse put me on the lowest possible dose. She upped it every 45 minutes.
For five hours I stood up, sat down, squatted, rolled from side to side and did what I could to help things move along. Since Pitocin is known for being aggressive, I was not allowed off the monitors. The contractions however were mild, coming every 5 minutes or so and not too painful.
And then comes 3 o’clock in the morning and the contractions went from mild to holycrapIthinkImightpassoutordie within a matter of minutes. I would grab onto KC and try my best to stay ahead of the pain but it was completely overwhelming. I begged the nurse to check me.
I was 6 cm. Oh my gosh. Kill me. (KC also chose at this precise moment to say to the nurse, “this is really embarrassing, but I have a headache, are you allowed to give me any Tylenol?” Silly man.)
The nurse assured me it would be quick from here, to try and breathe through the pain. NO WAY. I canNOT do this for 4 more cm. No freakin way.
She then turned off the Pit and contractions from then on out were all my own but the pain was horrific. So much worse than my previous labors.
And then I said it, “I NEED AN EPIDURAL.”
Three more contractions later, the anesthesiologist came and gave me the epidural. I kept muttering to myself, “Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up.” Because bending over, holding absolutely still during a contraction was not my idea of a good time.
And then it was done. My toes started to tingle, my legs started feeling heavy and then it was sweet relief. Oh blessed relief. It was the perfect epidural. I could move my legs, feel the pressure but no pain. I actually smiled. KC was dumbfounded.
I then got an hour and a half of relaxation. By that time I was complete and ready to push. We waited for a few minutes while the Dr. headed over and after 5 minutes of easy pushing, G-man was born. 5:29 a.m. He was beautiful and I was immediately in love!
Seconds after he was out, one of the nurses exclaimed, “Dr. that is NO 41 week baby! He is only 40 weeks!” (How they can tell, I have no idea.) The Dr. looked him over, looked at me and said,
“Okay, you win. He’s 40 weeks.”
I could have punched him. But I was too wrapped up in my little man to care at that point.
Words cannot describe how much I love this boy. He is so mellow and sweet and smells just like heaven. I am so beyond grateful for this little guy. I can’t get enough of him!