Part Two, Etc.

Before I get into the sequel, a couple of random observances:

1. We have new neighbors. When they moved in, G saw them unload a huge cage full of live chickens. Reminder: we do not live in the country. Fortunately, they're not our direct next door neighbors - they're a house away. But I haven't heard much clucking in the last few days, so I'm thinking the chickens weren't pets.

2. I'm almost at 40 weeks, depending on who you ask. Doc says my cervix is high and tight. It's a wonder I get pregnant at all with this puritanical cervix of mine.

A's Birth Story, Part Two

Thursday, September 5: When we last left our heroine, she'd been hooked up to a low dose of pitocin for about 8 hours with nothing happening. The gel had been tried 7 times, and was equally ineffective. By this time I was almost 42 weeks and the show needed to get on the road. They don't let you go overdue 6 weeks the way they used to. Nurses kept teling me that no one is pregnant forever, but I was beginning to lose faith.

10:30am: So they turned up the pitocin and I headed into labor land. Ouch, but bearable. We called our doula, my sisters and my best friend. We were upgraded to a labor and delivery room (on each admission, we got progressively nicer rooms), which was nice and big. They wouldn't let me eat or drink anything, but they did give me a popsicle which I promptly threw up. We all thought we were having a baby that day.

12:00pm: The contractions started coming on hard and strong, my water broke and I was shaking violently. I wasn't cold, but the contractions were so hard and close together, I couldn't relax in between them. I always thought I'd sort of close my eyes and breathe heavily during contractions. I didn't think I'd be a moaner. Man, was I vocal. "Uuuuhhhh, uhhhhhhh, uuuhhhhh" during each one. No wonder they moved me to the end of the hallway. Not even 4 cm yet and I was sounding like I was birthing a hippo. I was pouring sweat, and the ice pack we'd brought just wasn't big enough for my whole body. I remember grabbing people's hands and, if they were cool, pressing them all over my body. Thank goodness I was among friends and family. Later I said something to the doula like, "I sweat a lot," and she said, "Yeah, I noticed."

I kept asking, "Is this as bad as they get?" The doula thought for a moment, and said, "Yes." Thank goodness she's not always brutally honest.

"You have to give me something," Ms. Natural Childbirth told the midwife.

"Well, we don't like to give anything until you're in active labor."

I ripped the IV's out, grabbed scissors from the bedside stand and stabbed her.

No, I didn't, but I did ask what the hell wasn't active about my shaking and moaning. Since I probably did look rather homicidal, she agreed to give me some Fentanyl. I hadn't wanted a narcotic because it gets into the baby's bloodstream, but at that point, I would've been happy to shoot me up some heroin.

They turned down the pitocin a little because they were sick of hearing me moan. I think I got 2 doses of the Fentanyl. When I'm dying, I want Fentanyl. Lots of it. I want to go out high as a kite on the stuff.

4pm: I was still 3 cm, but I couldn't have any more Fentanyl, so the midwife took pity on me and everyone else and said I could have an epidural. The nicest man in the hospital came and stuck a needle in my back. Much better. I couldn't walk around, but I could lie on my side all I wanted.

6pm: Nurses tried to roll me over to my left side, but my blood pressure dropped, the baby’s heart rate dropped and all havoc broke loose. A whole bunch of people suddenly arrived in my room, and I thought, "Oh, look at all the people in here. They must be training or helping out or something." Well, no, the baby was crashing. They threw an oxygen mask on me, rolled me back to my right side and apparently we were both fine as long as I stayed on my right side. A woman stuck her hand up me and fastened a monitor onto the baby’s head. I was so used to spreading my legs for anyone at this point that I would've spread them for the janitor if he'd given me a couple more centimeters. Nurse told me I would probably be pushing around midnight.

Midnight: 6 cm. La de dah de dah. They kept turning up the pitocin. I could feel the contractions on my left side because the epidural was concentrated in the right side of my spine since that was the side I was lying on. I was getting a fever because of an intrauterine infection, since it had been so long since my water broke and so many fingers had been up there. Sisters and friend went to our house to rest. G lay on the chair/bed thing they have in the room. I tried to sleep, but no go. Doula pulled out some sort of craft thingy. I told her, "This must be really boring for you." She answered, "Yeah, sometimes." Now, see, there was another point where she really didn't have to be so honest.

4am: Stuck at 8 cm. The baby’s head was pressing so hard against the cervix with each contraction that the cervix was swelling. Swelling? How unfair was that? They told me that if there was no progress in an hour, we’d have a C-section. I burst into sobs. I'd had nothing to drink for 26 hours and was dying of thirst, had been lying on my right side for 12 hours, no sleep for several days, and they were going to end up cutting him out anyway? G wanted to wait a little and see if the swelling cervix spread anymore. I told him I was exhausted and I didn't think I could do much more. My fever was around 102 by then. G. asked the doula what the risks of a C-section were. She says, "Um, death." Now see, yet another point where she didn't have to be so honest. The doctor, Dr. Massengill (yeah, I'm sure he's heard all the jokes too), comes in and tells me that "I think we should just be glad that we have this option." Um, OK. I'm glad I don't have to give birth in a rice field, too, I guess.

6am: Started getting prepped for surgery. Now THAT'S all kinds of fun - getting shaved isn't so bad, it's anticipating it all growing back in and all the itching that will accompany it that's awful.

6:45am: Was visited by the gurney demolition-derby team, who knocked me into every single doorway and wall possible while wheeling me into the operating room around 6:45am. I was told it would feel weird, like they're grabbing my rib cage and rocking me back and forth. It did feel weird. I was shaking and the anesthesiologist asked if I want my arms bound to the arm rests. I told her I didn't know her well enough for that kinda stuff.

Doc cut into me, and called out, "We have meconium!" and again, havoc broke loose. There was lots of activity and some running around by staff. They lifted A. out at 7:25am. G. said, "Wow, he's got big feet....oh my gosh, he's really hung, too." You could hear the respect in his voice. I couldn't see what was happening, but I guess a nurse waved him over to watch them aspirate A., and that was the last I saw of G. for a while. The anesthesiologist, who is the only one paying any attention at all to me at this point, tells me not to worry that I'm not hearing him cry. I finally heard him start up a tiny wail after being aspirated, and I got all teary. G. brought him over to see me after they got him all cleaned up. I was a little disappointed that I didn't get to see him with all the gunk on him, because it felt like I went numb for a while and then suddenly, out of nowhere, appeared a baby in a little hospital blanket. Like I missed the whole thing.

8am: G. accompanied A. to the NICU, I went to recovery. G. got into a fight with the NICU nurse who was trying to get him to leave his brand new son so they can do change of shift, which involved sharing confidential information about patients and G. wasn't supposed to be in the room while they did that. He stood his ground, and told them they needed to find a place where he and his 30-minute-old son could be together. So they all (G., A. and a rather cranky NICU nurse) joined me in recovery. I noticed that he had the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen on a baby. I mean, seriously, they reached up past his eyebrows. And a recessed chin. "Where'd he get that? Is that from your side? It's not from my side!" I complained to G. My sister later told me that all newborns have recessed chins. Well, there's a bit of information I could've used earlier. I was all morphined up but still dying of thirst and begged for some liquid. They finally took pity on me and let me have some 7-Up in my ice chips.

So. We started induction on Sunday, and he was finally born on Friday. My recovery was OK, but not fun. The hospital did "rooming in," where the baby stays next to the mother, which was fine, except that no one could stay with me because there were no private rooms. Since I had a roommate, G. couldn't stay the night to help, which sucked because I could barely move. Roomie's baby was in the NICU with jaundice, and she got to sleep. I did not, until the nurses again took pity on me and wheeled him out to the nurse's station for about 2 hours. Keep in mind that I had gotten maybe 10 hours of sleep total in the last week. They wouldn't let me eat, either, which makes me think I could be an FBI agent with the torture I endured. I was anemic, gassy, in pain and stunned. Frankly, I think I was remarkable perky and good-spirited, considering all that.

Oh, let me not forget this episode: I guess A. was having trouble some trouble latching on correctly. The nurses and LC told me I had flat nipples. In fact, one nurse yelled down the hallway, "Hey, who has the pump? I got one with extremely flat nipples here!" Who knew? I had to pump my breasts up to a state of attention, and then I guess he could latch on. You just learn all kinds of things about yourself during birth.