17 months and 2 weeks later . . .
Jambo, Fall of 2004
Having experienced the nearly perfect birth of number 6, I had finally figured it all out. There was the meconium thing, and waiting for the doctor, but having a baby without pitocin, in God's timing was definitely the way to go, and I was committed to it.
So, as #7's due date came and went, I was not troubled. As we approached the 41 week mark, I was at peace. At my 41 week appointment, I was not concerned. Until my doctor took my blood pressure.
Up until that appointment, my bp had only been high when I was in labor. Not a big deal. We had since come to an understanding that if my blood pressure was under a certain number, I could still get out of bed to labor, so I wasn't worried about it. But that Monday afternoon at my appointment, my doc said, I'm sorry, but we need to have this baby, I can't let you leave with numbers like this.
I cried. But my husband came, I got hooked up, and from the first drop of pitocin until they said it's a boy it was only 2 and 1/2 hours. Not only that, but I did almost all of it out of bed, and the pain was manageable. I love watching that birth video. It was a real struggle deciding whether to get in bed and be checked, but when I did, they said I was pretty much there. My doctor let me wait until I wanted to push this time. It was quiet and peaceful, no stirrups, the doc, a nurse, a couple friends taking pictures and video, just waiting. Each contraction came and went. (it hadn't taken much pitocin, by the way, being 41 wks) Finally there was a contraction that lasted maybe 3-4 minutes. In the video you can see the people checking their watches. But by the end of that contraction, we had a baby boy, God's gift, and he was perfect and marvelous, 8 lb, 7 oz.
So I thought, okay, maybe pitocin isn't the devil, just trying to have a baby early is the actual devil. Hmmn.
17 months and 2 weeks later (same spacing to the day) . . .
Bibith, Winter, 2006
Like any pregnant woman with children, I enjoy a little break now and then, so when my OB began sending me to the Women's Evaluation Unit (hereafter referred to as the WEU, pronounced Wee-U, which is what my daughter calls the Wii) to be observed, it didn't bother me too much. It was exciting, knowing baby would happen soon, the pregnancy was almost over. I would be okay, I'd stand up during labor, it would be fine. And at 37 weeks 3 days, when my blood pressure was causing my liver enzymes to elevate (that's all I know, don't know which enzymes or how high or anything else) and my ob said we have to do this, I was okay with it.
The problem was that it was the middle of the night, I hadn't eaten, or slept, and I was being induced 3 and a half weeks before my body really wanted to have a baby. And it protested. For hours I would have contractions, get up, and not have them. On. Off. Frus. Trating. Finally, I agreed to an epidural, I thought so they could turn the pitocin up higher and speed things up. But they didn't. I had a sweet little nurse who could see that I was having contractions (It's my 8th baby - I have contractions all the time - means NOTHING!) so she didn't want to turn it up. So nothing happened.
It was morning, the cotton candy nurse left, I had an epidural but was not in labor. I was not progressing, not nothing. Finally, the getturdone team showed up, including Val from my 4th labor, to make things happen, turn it up. I had way too many people there for that baby, which doesn't help with progressing. I was hungry and bored.
Blah, blah, blah, eventually contractions picked up. I should mention that in the 10 or so years since my first, the epidural has changed and now does not take away all feeling, and this is good. Eventually I was feeling them, and finally felt like pushing. right. now. Again, Val trying to keep me from giving birth, again waiting for my doctor to get there, but finally (about 16 hours after we started) we pushed out a tiny 6 lb 2 oz baby girl. She was so tiny we called her baby for years.
She also had a hard time nursing, maybe because she was sleepy, maybe because she was little, maybe because my body was no more ready to make milk than it was to give birth at that point, maybe because she was jaundiced. But she only became more jaundiced because of not eating. And eventually Roberta, the old battleax from the newborn nursery, came and let me know that we had to give her bottles or she couldn't go home with me.
And I wept long and hard and looked like crap. It was the final straw in the labor that didn't go my way. Not my due date, not my labor, not my baby - they were taking it all away. Melodramatic? Maybe, but I also think when you jump start labor weeks early it throws the hormones into a huge lurch and the emotions run wild. I was a mess. Eventually I pumped and worked through it, but it was really rough.
I did not want to do that again.
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