So here we go...
It seems like I went from not having contractions to all of a sudden I had them all the time and they hurt really bad. I'm sure it was more gradual than that but they came on pretty quickly because of the drugs. I told the nurse very early on that I didn't want any pain so give me drugs. Apparently it was a busy night in L&D and everybody wanted drugs because the anesthesiologist took her sweet time getting to me. When she finally showed up, she apologized for taking so long and said I was the last one on her list and man she was exhausted. I probably should have accepted her apology but instead I strangled her with her fanny pack. I didn't care about apologies or explanations or excuses, I just wanted her to stick that damn mile-long needle into my spine. They kicked my parents out of the room and for those of you who have been through this, you'll remember the oh-so-fun part of bending over your ginormous belly and not moving at all even if a contraction comes because the needle is going to paralyze you if you even blink. The first needle, a local anesthetic to numb the area, hurt but that's cool, I really didn't want to feel the mile-long needle going into my spine. Except for some reason, when she stuck the mile-long needle into my spine, I could feel it. And I don't even know how to describe it because I have never felt anything like it before. It felt like a needle being stuck in my spine. It hurt and it felt awful. Thankfully it didn't hurt for very long and then the pain of the contractions went away so I wasn't so pissed anymore. My parents came back in the room and all was well.
It was a black leather fanny pack.
And this is where things get fuzzy for me. At some point, it could have been an hour, it could have been 3 hours but I don't think it was that long, the epidural stopped working and I could feel the contractions again. And they were getting stronger and closer together. I kept trying to tell the nurse that something was wrong and she seemed to think I was just feeling pressure and not the contractions. At first I agreed with her because what the fuck did I know? Almost all of this process was new to me, I didn't know what I was supposed to be feeling or how a contraction felt vs. pressure from a contraction. All I knew was that I was in pain and it felt like the nurses and anesthesiologist didn't believe me. And because it was a busy night on the floor, it would take forever for the anesthesiologist to come back to check on me. I just remember that I was miserable. There were times that I could manage the pain and get through the contraction and there were times when I thought I was dying. Eventually I found that if I could look directly into my mom's eyes and focus on just her eyes during a contraction, I could get through them. It was the weirdest thing. I tried focusing on other things in the room, the wall clock, the curtain, the wall, but nothing worked except my mom's eyes. My mom is an amazing woman and stood by me as much as she could. Once in a while she'd have to move out of the way of the nurse or dr. or whatever and I could tell she hated to leave my side.
At some point in the very early hours of the next day, the anesthesiologist came back in and I was exhausted and in pain and I remember that during several contractions instead of looking into my mom's eyes I gave up and just begged for help. The anesthesiologist unlocked the little case with the bag of drugs that was going into the epidural and she said, "Oh. This is supposed to be empty," as she held up a very full bag. I think I had mentioned in my previous post that the hospital had new IV pumps and apparently this one wasn't working like it should have been. And instead of getting a steady flow of pain meds into my epidural, I was getting a teeny tiny amount. And the anesthesiologist also admitted that because there were so many patients that night, she had run out of meds and had to get mine from Urgent Care and she suspected their meds weren't as strong as what L&D uses. I would have killed her again with her motherfucking fanny pack but I was too busy having contractions and when that happened I needed both of my hands to grip the railing on the bed and attempt to rip it off and throw it out the window. She said she would get me some lidocaine right away and that would help. She shot the lidocaine into one of my IV ports and ahhhhh... instant relief. I was so happy I think I smiled and laughed about something.
Unfortunately, that was very short lived. I was fine one second and then all of a sudden I was puking and everything was going dark. I think I said, "something is wrong..." and then I couldn't talk but I could hear the nurse say "60 over 40" and the anesthesiologist was yelling at the nurse to flush the IV line but because there were so many the nurse couldn't tell which one it was and I remember the anesthesiologist threw something on the bed because it landed on my legs and then she screamed, "I DON'T CARE PICK ONE NOW!" and then that's the last thing I remember until I opened my eyes again and the nurse was standing there messing with my IV lines and I asked her if my baby was okay. She said my baby was fine, his heart rate hadn't changed a bit. I asked her if I was okay and she said I was and that for some reason my blood pressure had suddenly dropped. Gee. Ya think? Then I looked over and saw my parents cowering in the corner. Because everything happened so quickly, they were blocked in and couldn't get out of the room. Later I found out that for a minute, they thought they were watching me die. I cannot even begin to imagine what that was like for them. Ugh. The nurse stopped the oxytocin and my contractions pretty much stopped. I remember being confused about the puking because I couldn't remember the last time I ate. Isn't it funny the things you think about and the things you remember thinking about? Eventually I remembered that I had eaten at the hospital right before they started giving me the magnesium. I asked the nurse to please get me a toothbrush and some toothpaste because yuck. The magnesium already made me super thirsty and gave me dry mouth and I had just puked. She said no because you can't eat or drink anything when you're on magnesium. Are you kidding me??? Did you not just see me puke hospital food all over myself??? I promised to just brush my teeth and not swallow one drop of water and she finally agreed and I could have kissed her with my nasty, dry, magnesium, puke mouth. I didn't because I think she really wasn't supposed to let me do it. Even though I was so thirsty I would have drank the toothpaste, I was good and was very careful to not swallow anything.
The anesthesiologist came back and tried to adjust my epidural pump and someone in an official looking medical outfit checked to see how far I was dilated and I was at 7 centimeters. Seven. It was around 5 a.m. They turned the oxytocin back on and hoped that the epidural would work. It didn't. Well, maybe it worked some because who knows how much pain I would have been in if I didn't have it at all. I could still feel every contraction and I was having a hard time getting on top of the pain because I was so tired. I just hoped I was dilating and that I would have enough energy to push the kid out once it was time. Luckily I was focused on getting through each contraction and hadn't even considered how bad it was gonna hurt to get the kid out.
Around 9 a.m. the famous Nurse Ratchet came in (you'll have to check out the first part that explains who she was) and I remember I was laying on my left side, facing the door to my room. I was hanging on to the bed rail for dear life and was back to begging anyone, no one in particular, everyone, to help me. She bent over and looked me in the eye and said, "Miss Leaf, I hear you whining. You've had an epidural." This is the part where everyone assumes Nurse Ratchet is dead. Nope. She's alive and well. Actually, I don't know that for sure but I know I didn't kill her. I was so exhausted and in so much pain that I just looked away and started to cry. She then asked me what was wrong and why was I crying. I refused to speak to her. The night nurse had left a while before this happened and the nurse that had been on duty when I first came in was back. Both the night nurse and this nurse were so nice to me. I still remember their names, Laura and Laurel. Laurel came over and I told her I needed a different doctor and that I was not going to talk to that woman anymore. She had heard what Nurse Ratchet said to me and very kindly explained that she thought Nurse Ratchet used the wrong word and that English wasn't her first language and she most likely didn't mean that I was whining but that she (Laurel) understood if I needed to see someone else. Laurel was so awesome that when it might seem like she was making excuses for Nurse Ratchet, it didn't feel like it. I think she was just trying to make me feel a little better about the whole shitty situation. I told her I needed a different doctor. I was done. I never saw Nurse Ratchet again.
The on-call OB/GYN came in just before 10 a.m. I knew my regular doctor wasn't on call that weekend but I was still disappointed. I loooooved my doctor! The on-call doctor checked to see how far I was dilated and I wanted to die when he said, "You're 7 centimeters." Five hours of contractions and I hadn't dilated any more. He told me that I could either have a c-section right away, or he could wait an hour to see if I started to dilate. He said he would go check on a couple patients and would let me think about it for a few minutes. After he left I called Laurel over and I asked her what she thought the chances were that I would start dilating again after not making any progress for the past 5 hours. She said she didn't think it was very likely and she was concerned that I was so tired that even if I did get to 10 centimeters, pushing out a baby would be almost physically impossible. I told her to bring that man back and let's have a baby. The best part was that they turned off the oxytocin again and my contractions slowed waaaaaay down. Aaaaahhhh...
Once the decision was made everything happened really quickly. They had a scheduled c-section at noon so needed to get me in as soon as possible. I remember they told my parents only one of them could be in the room with me. My parents asked me if I had a preference and I told them to duke it out. My mom must pack one hell of a punch because almost immediately my dad left to go to the waiting room and the nurses were taking my mom to get her suited up for the OR.
A really perky anesthesiologist assistant came in to get me ready. She was so friendly and nice and complimented me on my nail polish. Another anesthesiologist came in and he was old and didn't have a fanny pack and I liked him instantly. Once they got me in the OR they tested my epidural site because they wanted to use that to numb me. It didn't work so they had to take out the epidural, which I could feel, and put in a spinal block. I was still having some contractions so it was still really difficult to sit perfectly still while feeling like my body was being ripped in half. But the spinal block was worth it. Oh sweet spinal block. I couldn't feel anything lower than my arm pits. I loved that spinal block. I wanted to marry it but I was still legally married and was about to become a single parent and didn't need anymore drama in my life.
After I was all sewed back together and they moved me back onto a bed, I realized that one of the people in the OR was Patrick the intern, who was also introduced in my first post. He congratulated me and wished me the best. I was sincerely happy to see him and thanked him for everything. Later my mom told me that the dr. had Patrick stitch me up. This sounds crazy but I was glad because I felt like he cared about me and would have done a good job. He was there with me and Nurse Ratchet from the beginning and he checked back in on me a couple times. Maybe he had to because it was part of his job but even if that was the case, he made me feel like it was because he really wanted to make sure I was okay. This whole thing was so fucked up that I made an intern that reminded me of Doogie Howser, my hero. Anyway, apparently he had a big job to do in stitching me back up because my mom told me that during the c-section, she heard the dr. say that he needed to make the cut bigger to get the baby out. Yuck.
So finally someone handed me my baby and at that moment, and from then on, my family felt complete. I couldn't stop looking at him. He was supposed to look all gross and newborn and wrinkly and alien-ish but he was staring at me with those ginormous eyes and he was beautiful and I felt like I knew him and I told him he was grounded for punching me in the bladder and in my right rib so many times and I just couldn't believe that he was mine and did I mention how fucking gorgeous he was?
The rest, as they say, my friends, is history.
(I know I just recently posted this photo but it is the only one I have of Henry and I on the day he is born where he's awake! I just looked through a shit-ton of photos from his birth day and he is sound asleep in all the other photos with the two of us. Also, I think it pretty accurately depicts what I was feeling at the time: drugs, exhaustion, and happiness. And Henry, he's still pretty chill)
No comments:
Post a Comment