A load has been lifted. About 3 a.m. my water broke. I stood in the bathtub while Brad called the doctor and the babysitter. Neither pain, nor discomfort, I tried to ignore a rising panic. I don't know of any other situation when I have felt that panic except impending labor. Pain is coming, I've known it for months, and even knowing drugs are available, there's really no stopping it.
Brad told me in the parking lot that I wanted an epidural. Of course I did. There will always be a bigger part of me that believes labor should be felt for whatever reasons are in God's design. Perhaps pain just puts things in perspective, or heightens our sense of survival, or something I haven't found the words for.
I was tired. I lay in the hospital bed for 4 hours with nothing really happening. I should've gotten up and walked, but I wanted to sleep. I actually asked for pitocin which surprises me now, cause it's not my style.
I don't remember what the clock said when certain things happened. Brad blogged that already anyway. But hard labor started sooner than it should've with the pitocin. Six centemeters was awful. I asked the nurse to turn it off to let it happen naturally. She said she had already turned it off. Smart girl.
Labor actually got slightly better after that, even though I was hitting the transition. I even stopped moaning.
According to the doctor, the baby's heartbeat wasn't right. No epidural, no paracervical block either, when the baby's in distress. "Is there anything else you can give me?" He asked the nurse for something in medical speak, and she disappeared. It felt like they had taken their time getting the epidural together, (Here the OBs deliver it.) even though I said from the beginning that if I get pitocin, I get an epidural.
It's funny now. The doctor sat by my bed watching the baby's heart from the monitor they'd stuck to her scalp. His arms were crossed, very still, the epidural on a tray right beside him. Two contractions after he'd ordered a shot or two of something to take the edge off, I declared twice in a rather desperate voice, "I gotta push."
The doctor did his thing, confirmed what I'd told him in his friendly Indian accent. Just like with Seth, the contractions stopped hurting after the pushing started. I think I lay my head back twice to wait for another contraction. Once I started really feeling her coming out, I didn't stop pushing. Then I only remember catching my breath twice.
She wiggled all the way out, all 9 lbs. and 1 oz. Perhaps she was trying to help me. I was actually asking for help. I squeezed, a few Help mes out of my throat while I was pushing. Later I wondered if the staff thought I was praying, but I was asking them for help. What I wanted to say was, "Is there anything you can do to help get her out? Can you pull on her or something?" But I didn't wanna stop pushing long enough to ask this. I didn't really need the help anyway. I pushed for about 5 minutes.
There was this student doctor there who was coaching me really loudly. Very motivational. It's funny how someone you don't know can coach you so well. They can take liberties at ordering you to do something that someone you know cannot take.
The cord had actually been around her neck. Did that slow down her heart? I've wondered since then why I didn't get up and walk to start labor. Why would I ask for pitocin, esp since my experience the first time? I imagine it sped labor up quite a bit. And knowing the cord was around her neck leads me to think it happened exactly how it was supposed to. It was harder then Seth's labor, partly pitocin, partly anxiety. But to get through the contractions, I prayed and counted my blessings, all our babies, Savannah, Seth, and Arwen.
