Birth stories, part 6

The arrival of Little Red
Winter, 2011

After being on blood pressure medication for 3 weeks, (Labetalol, 100mg 2x/day {8am and 4 pm} to 200mg 2x/day to 200 mg 3x/day, in case anyone needs to know) and having my blood drawn each week, the doc said my ldh (a liver enzyme) was steadily going up. This is what happened with my 8th, but it was high enough at 37wks3days to induce. This time, we had kept it at bay and it was just on the line at 38 wks. So I agreed, to my ob's delight, to be induced the day before my due date.

I was divided about this, for several reasons: my 39 wk blood draw showed my ldh had actually gone down to under the limit, for obvious reasons I prefer not to be induced, and I didn't want to play God and let my impatience take over. On the other hand, my doctor and husband both felt good about going ahead, not waiting to get sicker, not waiting to have to do it.

So, after a weekend of knowing it was going to happen (first scheduled induction in 6 kids or so, that was weird - knowing this is our last ______ before Dozer, last popcorn and candy night, last time going to church, etc.), we got the call Tuesday morning. They had said we would go in by 9 or 10. We got the call at 5:45, to be there at 7:30! My plan of having a good breakfast was out the window. I tried to choke down a hastily made turkey sandwich (gag) and part of a bagel but my mouth was nervous and my stomach wasn't interested - but I never missed it.

At my last visit I had measured 2 cm and 60% effaced. So I was hoping for a 3 the morning of the induction. No. I was 1-2. Hmmn. My nurses were all named Sue, and the main one was a good one, one of the tough ones who has been there a long time and knows her stuff. That was good. We did the briefing, a resident came in and acknowledged that it was possible she would deliver the baby, if things went fast at the end, that was nice. Dr. Brooke.

They hooked me up to the pitocin and I had contractions for about 3 hours, some that got my attention, but not very consistent. I tried to rest, but was nervous and excited. We watched TV some during this time, I had cranberry juice, it was okay. Around 12 I was at 3 (which was nice, to have gained a little without too much pain) and my doc asked to have my water broken. Now I know this is controversial, and I don't know if perhaps it would have been better otherwise. There is a part of me that would love to be in that natural, labor-at-home, no-intervention camp, but I've had enough issues with blood pressure, etc., not to have that option, and I can't afford to get bent out of shape when things don't go my way. They don't always, and that's okay too.

Water broken, pretty soon the contractions picked up and before long I was having to work. I leaned over the back of my sat-up bed, which worked well during contractions but not between them, and they were far enough apart that there was some time between them. (In fact, they were never ever really closer together than 3 minutes, consistently anyway.) So my nurse was a fan of the birthing ball, and I did that for a while. I was a little chicken of it, because, um, well, I'm short and fat and was not sure I could keep my balance, but hubby sat behind me and it worked okay. I found the more I hurt, the bigger area I needed to rock and roll on that ball. So at first he was right behind me and I was pushed up next to the bed. Then I backed up and he backed up and the ball made "much bigger circle". (Fiddler on the Roof)

When I am in good hard labor, I do not like to be touched. So my poor husband is asking if he can do anything, and I know people who have counter pressure and back rubbing and I just don't want any part of it. We have a joke, from The Apple Dumplin' Gang, I just say, "Clovis don't like to be touched," and he understands.

At 2 o'clock, I was at 5. From then on, it felt like transition could happen any time. Now that may sound silly, but my transition from 5 to pushing has gone fairly quickly in the past, sometimes, and this was no different, eventually. But not for a while. I kept asking to be checked, and kept being a 5, kept crying wolf, kept feeling stupid. And I wouldn't care, except that I wanted my doctor to be there. But I didn't want him to have to leave patients during office hours only to come stand outside and wait for a long time - and I didn't know. So after about 2 hours of being at 5, I agreed to an epidural. I wasn't progressing. The contractions were wicked, but not long enough or close enough, and I knew I was going to need more pitocin (was at 11) and didn't think I could take it. He wasn't coming down, I was doing everything I knew to do but couldn't relax and suspected an epidural would do the trick.

The thing I had wanted to avoid regarding an epidural was the sit in bed all day and do nothing, don't move, stuck baby with a bruise on her head kind of epidural. So I was okay with getting one here, knowing it wouldn't be long. On the other hand, I was very nervous that I would go through all the trauma of having one placed but not get medicated in time to push. Yeah.

So the anesthesiologist came, I got on the side of the bed in a little ball (not too uncomfortable, if you're not having CONTRACTIONS!)(but I was), and she got it in, except that it went into a vein, which is apparently not where you want it. So she pulled it out and started over. And all the time, I am more and more sure she's not going to get it in in time. And all I could think was, "I just want to have ONE contraction I don't feel, just ONE.

As you can guess, I didn't even get one. I got on my back, they started giving me medicine. With each contraction I kept asking (whining), how much longer do you think it will take? And they kept saying ridiculous things like, 10 to 15 minutes. I think I was just deciding whether to relax, or wait for the pain to stop, and finally something in me clicked and said, the heck with it, I'm pushing. (And the nurse checked me right in the middle of that moment I think and realized it was too late.)

So I said the magic words we had all been waiting for for 2 hours - "I need to push." She said, "don't push." I said, "I'm pushing." And she said, "I know you are honey." Little Red was half way out and they said, now you really have to push, so I did a mighty push and my son came out on the bed. Dr. Brooke came in quickly and did all the uncomfortable things they do right after you have a baby, and I felt a whole lot of it, but I think some of the epidural had kicked in a little.

Red (red hair, red skin - neither will stay that way) was over with Daddy and the nurse being checked out, doing well, but I couldn't see him and didn't know really what was going on, just kicking myself for getting another stupid epidural that we have to pay for but I got no benefit from whatsoever. Oh well, I say. It distracted me through the last leg, maybe relaxed me a bit, maybe got me in a better position . . . in the end, I have a son, I had him naturally, without drugs, and he is marvelous. 8 lb 4 oz, right in the middle of my boys, bigger than any of my girls.

After all my labors I like the line from the end of the movie Hook, that the little guy says when Pan is flying away: Now that was a great game.