My Labor Day Story...and What a Labor It Was!

We take a break from our regularly scheduled blogging to participate in a meme at Rocks in My Dryer. (Link below; blogger's acting moronic.)

My last preggo pictures. Taken before my (next to last) preggo meal at Golden Corral.

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Here is my Labor Day story, circa January 2, 2007, for my little Livers:

How long was I in labor?
I was in labor for around 13-14 hours, give or take.

How did I know I was in labor?
When the nurse put the Pitocin drip into my IV for my induction and told me I'd start feeling contractions in around 20 minutes. She didn't lie. They started out nice enough, and I said to myself, "This is easy, I can handle this."

Before I started to understand what "labor" really meant. Note to self: Wear make-up and do a better hair job next time you have a kid. You may feel like crap, but at least you look pretty.

Where did you deliver?
At a hospital forty-five minutes from home. Good thing I was induced. I can't imagine having to have driven that while in labor. My husband would've died.

Drugs?
Oh yes. I have a pretty low threshold for pain. My contractions went from, "This is easy, I can handle this," to "Get me the f*****g epidural!" in about an hour. (I didn't say this out loud. I did in my head.) I was barely three centimeters dilated at this point. Before the epidural the doctor tried to break my water. I thought he was trying to kill me, or at the very least assault me. It was absolutely HORRIBLE.

I was fine for awhile after I was given my epidural, but then they had to periodically roll me from one side to the other to "drain the meds", because I would be numb on one side but could feel the contractions on the other. At one point my blood pressure must have dropped pretty low from the epidural, because I got incredibly nauseous, and they had to do a quick bolus bag to stabilize me. My mom later told me that she had never seen me so white and pale. Also not fun, by the time I actually reached 10 centimeters and was starting to push I had horrible back labor, which medicine would not have helped (believe me, I asked numerous times for something to take that away), AND my epidural had worn off (though my legs were still numb). I could've killed someone.

Me resting, when the epidural ACTUALLY was working.

C-Section?
Yes. I had never planned to have one, but it became obvious that I was going to need one. Why? Little Livers had chosen to make her grand entrance sunny-side up. In the last moments of my epidural's life the doctor tried to flip her face down. Let me tell you, that was an uncomfortable situation, even with pain killers. Nothing like a doctor shoving his entire hand into your uterus, grabbing your baby, and trying to turn her while you try to sit still. Even worse, I think he was still wearing his bomber jacket. Every time he came to check me (and to break my water) he just rolled up his sleeves. Dude, just take it off, because it's weird.

Anyway, he wasn't able to turn her so I had to try and push her out. The nurse got a bed sheet and knotted it, and she told me to grab on and pull while pushing. It was very obnoxious, because I was in a lot of pain and very tired, and she was acting like a complete bulldog.

Livers' never used warming table.

I tried really hard to push Livers out. I had the numerous busted blood vessels in my face to prove it. After around 45-minutes to an hour the doctor came in to check my progress, and he said that my cervix had swollen and was making it difficult for the already difficult baby to get through. He said it would likely be three more hours of this, and there was no guarantee that I would be able to push her out, so my mom stepped up to the plate and requested the C-Section on my behalf. I'll love her forever for this. I still had to wait in agony for thirty minutes to get the OR ready, and I was elated (between contractions) to get this over with. They told my husband to wait outside the OR until they got me ready and someone would fetch him, but they never got to. They gave me two spinals, but neither of them took, so they ended up putting me under general anesthesia. They never told me it was coming; just put a claustrophobic mask on my face and told me to take some oxygen. Next thing I remember I'm in recovery and groggily asking my husband questions about our new little girl.

Pictures of Livers taken while I was in recovery.

Who delivered?
The doctor did. He would periodically pop in throughout the day to check my progress. (See bomber-jacket reference.) The nurses did the vast majority of the work (aside from the C-section). I had around four or five throughout the ordeal. Amusingly the same nurse who had checked me in that morning was the one making me push that evening. I had been there long enough to catch her on her next shift. I didn't like her the second time. Most nurses at the hospital were awesome and very kind and helpful. One's name was Channa, which drove me crazy, because I was so hungry and her name was part of an Indian food dish that I thought was yummy.

Want more stories of guts and glory? Drop on over to Rocks in My Dryer and play along!