The 2012 Summer Olympics began on Friday July 27th. The husband and I were totally engrossed in the action. We wouldn’t go online for fear of finding out the results before the primetime coverage. We stayed up every night until midnight watching the games. Now, I knew being 39 weeks pregnant I should probably be getting my rest. But the games were just too much fun and it helped pass the time. The weekend started and I prayed my little girl would stay put until her due date, July 30th, because that was when my doctor would be back in town from vacation. But she had other plans.
Sunday night, we were up late watching the games and just
about ready to go to bed. I went to the
bathroom around midnight and noticed a little bit of fluid leaking. I thought maybe it was just preparation for
labor so I tried to go to bed. I
realized quickly the leaking didn’t stop and it was followed by cramping. Now usually I envision a woman’s water
breaking as it does in the movies; huge gush and the “oh my gosh my water broke”
line. But mine was nothing like
that. In fact, I didn’t really even know
it broke until they later tested at the hospital. I believe it didn’t rupture all the way and
only a small amount of fluid came out.
I tried to sleep for a while, but to no avail. I walked around the house, bounced on the
ball, rocked in the chair. The pains
immediately started as what they call “back labor.” From the moment I started contracting, it
felt like the baby was jabbing me in the lower half and the pressure in my rear
and lower half was unreal. It felt like
I had to push with every contraction just from the pressure of the baby’s
head. We called my mother-in-law to come
stay with PDub around 2:00am. We didn’t
leave for the hospital until 4:00am. I
thought for sure I had dilated enough to check in and would be at least a 5,
maybe even 6. All those fantasies of
quick and easy second deliveries kicked in from women who told me it would be
so much easier this time. Boy, are they
stupid.
My husband, knowing he was in for the long haul, asked (very
nicely) to stop and get a quick bite to eat.
I obliged because I thought it would just put me further along when we
got there. I could hardly sit at this
point through a contraction. I called my
doula and she was on her way to meet us at the hospital. When we arrived and got to a room it was
4:30am. Of course, women were having
babies like nobody’s business that night and all but 1 room was full. It was the oldest, smallest, yuckiest room of
all. Now mind you, you go to CHOMP to
have your babies because of the beautiful views from the big windows, the big
comfy rooms, etc. etc. This room,
however, was small, no windows, dark, no beautiful views of Monterey
Pines. No beautiful nothin’! And then, the nurse checked me. Two and a half. Two and a half stinkin’ centimeters. I wanted to cry. I probably did. But she said if my water had broken (which
they could tell by a strip test) then I would have to stay. She checked and it had, so at least I got
admitted. But this was not what I
wanted. I wanted to labor at home until
at least 5 or 6 cm.
My doula arrived and the pain got harder. The nurse kept wanting to keep the monitors
on me and I wanted them off. Very soon
after being on the monitors, the nurse noticed a concerning pattern. The baby’s heart rate had too much “variability,”
which meant it was dipping very low during contractions and not recovering well
in between. She had me stay in bed lying
on my side, a position I did not like.
Then she’d have me switch to the other side; more uncomfortable and the
baby didn’t respond. She called the on-call
doctor (mine was still on vacation) and they hooked me up to fluids.
After a few hours the nurse was still unhappy with the baby’s
heart rate and called the doc again. The
baby was OP which means she was turned the wrong way, and the cord was pinched
somewhere cutting off oxygen supply with each contraction. The doc recommended doing a catheter flush
where they push fluid into the uterus in the hopes of floating the umbilical
cord and relieving the pressure. This
would only work though if the baby’s cord was in a movable position and the
doctor wouldn’t be there to do it. The
nurse would have to try and if my water wasn’t fully broken she would have to
wait for the doctor. And they would
probe the baby’s head with a monitor as well.
Now I wanted a totally intervention-free labor and delivery. No IV, no catheters, no monitors, no meds. But I started to panic. If they started poking and prodding me and
sticking things inside of me while I was having all this tremendous back labor,
I couldn’t do it. This was the first
time I asked for pain meds. I wanted to
throw in the towel. But my doula,
knowing I may not really mean it, suggested I stand up. Changing positions may be enough to move the
baby in a position that helps her heart rate.
And it did.
Standing up was the only way baby was happy. Her heart rate stayed stable so I stood. I kneeled, I walked, I hung on my husband’s
shoulders, I leaned over the bed, I leaned over the ball. But the pressure just kept getting stronger
and stronger. I finally could not stand
on my own two feet any longer, and I asked for pain meds for the second
time. I got back into bed and begged my
husband to help with the pain. I asked
for heat to sit on. My doula brought me
piles of heat packs which I stuffed in my hospital grade undies and sat on; and
the hotter the better. I was checked a
while later, and I was at 7cm. I cried
and lost it. Now with PDub, I got stuck
and 7 cm and it took about 4 hours to get to 10. So, you can imagine my terror when I heard
ONLY 7!! This was the third and final
time I asked for meds - in tears, yelling, sobbing, hysterical. I was in transition.
My doula suggested the shower. To which I thought she was nuts, as I felt
like I could hardly walk to the bathroom 5 feet away. I had been awake for 24 hours, in enormous pain
for 10 of them, was hooked up to a stupid IV that I had to drag with me
everywhere, and I was ready to give up.
She prepared the shower with towels to sit on and my hot packs and made
sure the water was steaming hot. I
doused my belly and rear end and could no longer sit or stand through
contractions but rather stoop over and breathe as focused as I could. Within 10 minutes I felt the urge to push,
really push. They got me out and checked
me. I was at 10cm. The doctor hadn’t even been called yet, so of
course they told me to breathe through the contractions and DON’T PUSH! Umm….yeah freaking right! If you’ve ever been in labor and been able to
feel that urge to push, you have to push and push hard NOW! The nurse called in another nurse to help
with a possible delivery as they could see that baby was coming out.
The doctor rushed in and as soon as I saw her face, I pushed
with everything I had. The pushing was
more painful than I remember but the feeling of relief was there, the same I
felt with my first. I pushed a couple
times and listened carefully to the doctor because as the head emerged, they
saw the baby’s cord was wrapped twice around her neck. I did not look, but my husband later told me
it was a scary sight seeing the baby a little blue and the doctor trying to
carefully remove the cord. On the third
attempt, the doctor got the cord off and she didn’t have to cut me. After one more push, our miracle girl came
into the world without a peep. She had
to get roughed up a bit and was given some oxygen before we heard her little
sweet cry. The hubby got to clamp and
cut the cord, like a real pro. She was
on my chest shortly after and breastfeed well for the first 40 minutes of her
life.
My second labor experience was nowhere near what I had
anticipated. It was so very hard and
scary and painful. But I am proud of
myself for fighting through it and for my team for helping me over the hard
moments without giving up. I was still able to have my natural
intervention-free labor and delivery even when the hospital folks thought I couldn’t. Our
baby Sizzy is our little miracle, a little fighter, and the perfect addition to
our family.
