Friday, March 24, 2006

5:00 am: Andiclaus and I wake up and hop in the shower. My mom also gets up and gets ready to head to the hospital. Andiclaus and Mom have breadfast, but I don't, because the paperwork I have says not to eat after midnight.

7:00 am: We arrive at the hospital and get checked in. My mom takes the last pregnant pictures of me.

One of the nurses puts in my IV and because she has some issues doing so, she calls some 15-year-old guy from the lab to draw blood. He proceeds to draw blood from an artery rather than a vein. Two weeks later, the bruising is still visible.

My doctor arrives (I didn't really expect her to be so punctual) and gets ready to break my water. She puts her arm into me up to her elbow (at least that's how it felt) and tells me that I am already dilated to three and therefore very favorable for induction.

So she gets this weird hook out and starts poking around with it in an attempt to break my water. She hooks and pulls about three times and then announces that it appears that the baby's head is corking the amniotic fluid so that none of it is coming out.

"But it's broken?"

"Oh yeah."

So I'm hooked up to monitors to observe my contractions (that are not very strong or frequent at this point) and told that they'll give me until 9:00 to show progress before starting Pitocin (of which I am deathly afraid).

9:00 am: The nurse comes in to examine me. I'm still at three. This is not good news, and they are definitely going to start a drip of Pitocin.

The Pitocin can be turned up to a maximum of 20, but they will turn it up 2 at a time to ease me into the more intense contractions virtually guaranteed by the drug.

So we begin the drip, increasing the Pitocin by 2 every 15 minutes.

11:15 am: We're up to 20. Why aren't my contractions feeling stronger? (My doctor actually suggests that maybe I'm just a gladiator when it comes to pain. HA.)

11:30 am: I'm still at three?!? Are you kidding me?

12:00 noon: In spite of the nurse's previous explanation, she now tells me that they'll be turning my Pitocin up to 30. At this point, I still haven't had any pain meds, as the contractions aren't really that bad.

1:00 pm: So now I'm up to 30. My dilation? Go ahead - guess. Three! (I'm crying at this point - not from pain, but from frustration.) Sarah has arrived, so I'm slightly more distracted than I was an hour ago.

The new strategy for my Pitocin is to dial it back to 12 and start the climb to 30 again. This apparently sometimes works to get labor going.

3:00 pm: I'm back up to 30 and now the contractions are strong enough that I'm pretty uncomfortable. They give me a narcotic and I sleep and sweat between contractions. Dilation? Three, maybe four? Whatever. I hate you all.

4:00 pm: I'M HUNGRY! (And apparently, I was allowed to eat until I arrived at the hospital. It appears they gave me the instruction sheet for scheduled Caesarean, not induction.)

5:30 pm: My obstetrician is on call tonight, so she's at another hospital performing a Caesarean. The on-call midwife comes in to try to insert an internal monitor and announces that my water has not been broken. I'm at 4, but because the baby is sitting so high, the midwife won't break my water. Without my OB there, no one will be available for an emergency Caesarean if the baby crushes her umbilical cord.

5:32 pm: Commence nervous breakdown. My water isn't broken?!? Why won't they break it now? I haven't eaten in 22 hours!!! Someone shoot me.

6:00 pm: A nurse comes in to tell me that we have to wait for my OB to arrive before we make any decisions, but her best guess is that they'll turn off all my IV drips, get me some dinner, and try again in the morning.

6:10 pm: Second nervous breakdown. I CANNOT do this again tomorrow! My doctor's not on call tomorrow! Who will deliver the baby?

8:00 pm: My OB finally gets back to the hospital. Thankfully, she doesn't want me to wait until tomorrow to deliver. She'll be on call until 7:00 am, so hopefully she'll be here when the baby comes.

They break my water again and this time there's no question.

"That's the gush we were looking for."

"Wow! That's a lot of amniotic fluid!"

8:45 pm: Holy crap! I guess all that Pitocin did work. My contractions are coming closer and closer together and I decide that I can't do it without an epidural.

9:30 pm: The anesthesiologist comes into the room to give me the epidural. I am extremely freaked out at the thought of a needle in my spine, so I tell her that I'm not quite ready.

"We can do this or we can not."

Okay. Paralyze me.

She gives me the epidural and I am oh so grateful.

10:00 pm: The nurse comes in to check my dilation. Six! Yay for six!

I'm feeling no pain anymore, so Sarah's telling me when I'm in pain.

"This one's a bad one, Beth. You are definitely in pain."

Thanks.

11:30 pm: The nurse comes in again to check my dilation.

"I'm not going to say what I think we're at, but I can't find your cervix. I'm going to have another nurse come in to check."

11:45 pm: "She's complete."

What?!? I'm at 10? It's time to start pushing?

I'm not ready! Hold on!

Saturday, March 25, 2006

12:15 am: My doctor comes back to the hospital. They decided to have me start pushing.

I can't remember much of what happened the rest of the morning.

At 2:47, Alliclaus was born. It took another hour and a half to deliver the placenta (Remember that it was the largest placenta any of them had ever seen) and put in my stitches (and take them out and put them in again).

Needless to say, she was totally worth it.

Next time, I'll tell you what happened while we stayed in the hospital.