Ok, so this blog entry has been about 3 weeks in the making. Every chance I get, I sit down and try to get this story out, but as soon as I get a sentence or two written, something ALWAYS calls me away from the computer. Needless to say, the story might have a few grammatical errors, but you’ll get the point. Now we’re on our way to the Big City so I have no distractions (except for Mr. B’s constant chatter in the back seat) and I will actually get this posted!
Here are a few more pics of Baby “O” – he is doing really well and is up every 3 hours at night, which is to be expected. Mr. B is adjusting very well also, though we have had a few crying jags when things just aren’t going his way. He broke down yesterday morning because “Daddy didn’t rub his hands together with the gel before he put it on my hair!” he said when he came to tell me what was going on (he was actually tattling on Daddy!). He really likes order in his little life and having Daddy taking over these daily tasks has given the guy a shake. It will probably be hard on him when Daddy goes back to work and I start doing everything again, but we will adjust, it’s part of life, not just part of having a new baby around the house.
So about the birth…
I went into St. Joseph’s on Monday at 10:30 am after my doctor made sure that I was ready to be induced – he told me to go in early because it would probably take them two hours just to say “hello”, and since my appointment was at noon, we went ahead an drove up to the Big City. We got there and went to sign in, but had to go to triage instead, where they told me that even though they had scheduled me to be induced, there were 3 women in front of me who were in active labor which left no extra nurses to care for me because they had had a bunch of babies the day before and they were short nurses for that shift. This threw me for a loop because, hello? My parents were on their way up, my brother had Mr. B, my hubby was there with all our “baby baggage”, and they were telling me to take a number and wait in line? What the heck? Needless to say, I was flustered.
The triage nurse told me that we could probably be “worked in” around 2 or 3, so she told us to go out and eat a “huge lunch, like Applebee’s or something” and maybe see a movie, then come back and they see if I could be induced that day. So what did we do? We went out to eat a HUGE lunch at Taco Tote, one of my very favorite resturants, just like the nice nurse told us too.
My parents called and said that they were going to meet my brother Michael at Chuckie Cheese so we went there next to hang out with all the family while we waited for the hospital to call. One of the MOST annoying places in the entire whole wide world is Chuckie Cheese’s, especially when you’re on pins and needles over whether or not you’re going to give birth that day or not.
So when I called the hospital at 3:00, they told me to come in and we would get started, I was SOOO excited! We went in to labor and delivery and got set up with the IV, past history, and all the other formalities that go along with having a baby. By 4:30 I was in active labor, but only dialated to a 3, though I was 50% effaced (how in the heck to I spell that?). FAST FORWARD to 7:30, when the back labor hit and I asked for my epidural. Everybody had to leave because The Man With The Big Needle had to have complete silence in order to do his magic. This is a pivital moment, folks. The one that I will look back on and say, “What the freakin’ heck was I thinkin’ ?” kind of moments. Even though I had no idea what severe consequenses I would be facing from the simple choice to get my nether-regions numbed, I should have learned a little lesson from the FIRST time I played with heavy narcotics….
That lesson should have been learned when I gave birth to Mr. B, and couldn’t stop thowing up afterwards. At the hospital where I gave birth to Mr. B, they didn’t have a full-time anethesiologist, so they didn’t offer epidurals, only intrathecally administered drugs. I was told before it was administered to me that, “SOME women feel SLIGHTLY nauseated after the birth of the child. Most women feel no side effects whatsoever.”. Riiiiiiight. I started puking the moment they placed that baby in my arms and didn’t stop until the nurse knocked me out 20 minutes later. That was 4 1/2 years ago, and I thought for sure that this time would be different. Not so…
Back at St. Joseph’s, I was introduced to the narcotic fentanyl, a drug that The Guy With The Big Needle uses to help set up the epidural. He shot it into my IV and said that I MIGHT feel a little dizzy (that should have been a red flag). By the time my family got back into the room, I was laying down and feeling like I was in the middle of the ocean in a dingy during a hurricane. The nurse kept telling me that the nausea would pass any minute, but it just wasn’t happening. Around 11:30, I was finally dialated to a 7, but I couldn’t sit up because I was sooooo sick!
The nursed called up for an anti-nausea drug and they gave me the highest dose possible of the most potent anti-nausea drug they had, and all I did was PUKE. I HATE PUKE. I hate puking. And I hate PUKE more. And here’s the bad thing…the nurse was thinking that I hadn’t eaten lunch because they are supposed to tell women who are going into labor to eat a very light meal, if they eat a meal at all. I, however, ate a GINORMOUS meal at Taco Tote because the rotten nice nurse told me to, so I blew that little rule right out of the water. There was my sweet nurse (her name was Jane and she was from England, it was VERY fun to listen to her talk), holding this little towel next to me in case I threw up a little, and up came the PUKE. It was very sad. One minute, I was laying in bed, feeling sick with a washcloth on my face, and the next minute everything was covered in PUKE – the nurse, my bed, my sheets, the nurse, my pillow, my hair, the floor, and my nurse. I felt AWFUL! And I couldn’t stop puking. Then, because I had my epidural, I couldn’t move, so I had to be rolled over to get the yucky sheets out from under me, then rolled back to put the fresh ones on. Oh, and add to the puking an irrepressible urge to scratch my entire upper body. I felt like I was covered in itching powder! I now know that I am alergic to narcotic painkillers…
Midnight rolled around and my water broke. I was at a 9 and 100% efaced, so they called my doctor who was sleeping in one of the rooms down the hall. He came in at about 12:30 and checked me and was shocked that my epidural was at a twelve and I couldn’t feel a single thing from my belly-button down. “You are having a baby,” he said, “This isn’t brain surgery!” So they turned it down to an 8. The biggest problem is that every time I sat up to push, I would PUKE. Then when I ran out of goods to PUKE, I had to drink water so I would stop dry heaving. When I could finally feel a little tingly sensation in my legs, I had to sit up and push while turning my head to the side and puking into the pretty pink basin my husband was holding. This went on for about 20 more minutes until my doctor ordered more of the anti-nausea drug and I drank water while we waited for it. They pumped it into my IV and 30 seconds later, all the water came back up and into the basin. It was almost fun…almost. For the next 20 minutes, I pushed and puked through as many contractions as I could before I fell back on the bed and nearly passed out from exhaustion.
Finally, my doctor looked at me and said, “Sarah, I can sit here and watch you struggle to have this baby, or I can get the suction gun and help you get this baby out. I just can’t stand to see you struggle like this.”
I looked at my mom and she said that I should really try to avoid using the suction thing, so I told my doc that I would try one more series of pushes before I asked for help. So I pushed. And I puked. Then I pushed. And I puked. Then the contractions passed and I said, “Bring on the suction gun!”
After that, things went by very quickly. 4 more nurses came in, all sorts of equipment was rolled in, and the room that seemed large at the beginning of my labor seemed to dwindle in size in a very short amount of time. 4 pushes (and one VERY stinky burp) later, at 1:51 am on May 5th, our baby boy was born. The cord was wrapped around his neck once, and he was bruised from head to toe (literally!). But other than that, he was a very healthy baby! 7 pounds 15.7 ounces (yes, they should have just rounded that up to 8) and was 20 1/2 inches long.
After all that, my doctor wrote out my prescriptions and left. Then the extra nurses left. Then my mom and aunt went home to get some rest and my brother took off because he had to work in 4 hours. I had to stay in the delivery room for over an hour so the epidural could wear off and I could walk to the restroom and get into my wheelchair. It was right around 3 am when the itchiness returned. Then I started shaking – like I was cold but I wasn’t cold. I was chattering so badly that my teeth started to ache. Yet another side effect of the fentanyl. Nice.
I was finally, FINALLY wheeled to my room where I was able to rest and drink water that stayed in my stomach. My recovery wasn’t too bad and the nurses were wonderful and the food was even good. Sorry it took so long to get this out to you, hope you all hang around to see the antics one baby boy can add to a household, it’s sure to be fun!!!