What I did on My Labor Day

I'm going to go ahead and skip to the moral of the story: Pregnant women should NOT be left alone! We don't know what the hell is going on! For our own safety & mental stability we need to be assigned a nurse at 36 weeks that just follows us around answering questions and telling us what to do.

So I wake up at 2 AM with really bad cramps. Now, this should have been a sign that something was happening. I mean, I don't wake up- ever. I sleep. Not only did this wake me up, but I couldn't go back to sleep. Well, no water had broken. Plus my cramps (or should I say CONTRACTIONS!?!?!) were lasting longer than a minute. I was told they started out short. I did start timing them. I suppose there was something in my head that told me this was weird, but I in no way believed it. I had a schedule. I was going to work until at least March 2nd. I had things to do. Stuff to return to stores. I hadn't even finished my maternity plans.

So I got up and watched The Cutting Edge 2. I also sent myself an email with some additions to my plans, and info to people who were going to be taking things over for me at school. Once again- it seems I DID know something was happening, but I was in complete denial.

When Art got up I started a load of laundry, changed the sheets, and vacuumed. (Can we say Nesting? On a side note, I don't think Nesting is hormonal. I think it's your brain saying "Crap! I have a ton of shit to do, and no time left!") Art kept asking if everything was OK. I told him I was hurting, but I didn't think it meant anything. I was using my awesome phone app to time them- and they were all over the place. I'd have one, then the next 20 minutes later, then 9 minutes, then 16 minutes, then 32 minutes, and so on. Plus some would last just 30 seconds and some would last over 2 minutes. This was NOT how I was led to believe labor would begin. I thought it would be slow and regular. You know, first 30 minutes apart, then 25, winding me down to go time.

So I got the massage I had scheduled, I went to the dermatologist (where the receptionist told me I didn't look big enough to only have 2 weeks left. Oh yeah lady, I didn't even have a day left- so suck it!), and stopped by Wal-greens for make-up and jellybeans. Here I should have taken note at how when I was having a contraction- I would need to stop walking and wait it out.

I would like to take a moment to mention that I am not a TOTAL moron. I called my Doctor's off and asked how I could tell the difference between Braxton Hicks contractions and real ones. The nurse told me BH ARE real contractions, they are just pre-labor contractions. They are supposed to hurt. The difference it that real contractions don't stop. So, I made myself think these were just BH (because surely when I went 45 minutes between one, that was them stopping, right?)

At about 7 o'clock it all hit the fan. They started to HURT. I didn't want to sit when they happened, and I'd breathe really weird (not the calm, collected breathing you go over in birth class- but the Shit, I'm in pain breathing.) I am going to point out here that Art thought I was being a baby. I was also having back labor, because I felt it in my back, and it hurt to be touched during a contraction. Plus I felt like I had to pee every time. We go on this way for quite a while (still with irregular contractions). And THIS is where I get my moral. I ask Art what I should do. He doesn't know, and want to know what I think we should do. I don't know! I've never done this before! I don't know what it should feel like. Plus, it's 2 weeks early, on Friday my Doctor said I wasn't likely to go anytime soon, and I don't want to be one of those hysterical people who drive all the way to the hospital for a false alarm!

We go regulate out to 5 minutes apart, plus I spot some blood on one of my infinite trips to the bathroom. I call my doctor (after Art reminds me that even though it's 11 PM, they have a call service.) My actual doctor is actually at the hospital, and she tells me to come on in.

We get to Halifax at 11:30. I am RUSHED (those ER people do NOT mess around with the pregnant!) up to the maternity floor. I'm check by Dr. Gilmore who tells me I'm 4 cm and my sac has ruptured (must have been in the bathroom, cause I never felt it, and I didn't leak afterward), and that I should be having a baby in the "early morning." THAT was an underestimate.

I sign my name 7,000 times and request my epidural ASAP. I am already semi-shrieking during each contraction. I get checked twice more- and it HURTS. I ask them not to check me anymore, to wait until I get my epidural (hint, hint) and they tell me they have to check because they have to "Make some choices." Choices? I choose to get an epidural. Didn't they hear me talking to Dr. Gilmore!?!?!

I'm rolled into the delivery room- and I start acting like a fool. They want me to move from one bed to another- and I'm telling them I can't move, it hurts, I don't want to lay down, and that I HAVE to go to the bathroom. They say I don't, that it's the baby. But I insist. They insist right back. When I get up to move, there is this gush- and gross blood & bits come gushing out of me. They say that's "normal." Oh yeah? I disagree. This has never happened to me before. Therefore, it is NOT "normal."

It is slightly after midnight, and I'm told it's time to start pushing. (Now that is some FAST turn around time from 4 cm, right?) They say I'm like Superwoman and it shouldn't go this fast my first time. I show them just how UN-superwomanish I am by asking (again!) for my epidural. The nurse shakes her head at me. Then goes on to tell me how he's right there and it won't take long at all. Plus all the pressure I feel won't go away with an epidural. (By you know what- the pain will- and there is PAIN!) Dr. Gilmore says I can get one if I want.... but the nurses veto her, saying I won't lay still for it. (And as much as I hate those bitches, I have to agree. I was NOT handling the pain gracefully, and I was screaming and flopping around during each contraction.)

So I'm pushing, and pushing, and pushing. I feel like I'm going to pass out. It's all a blur. I remember hearing voices & seeing faces. They kept telling me I was "almost there." I do remember asking for them to just take him out.... and if they could give me ANYTHING else for the pain. "No." (bitches!) Art tells me later I drop the f-bomb a few times, and that I tried to bite him. I do not recall these events.

When I actually get to the "almost there" for REAL, my doctors freakin' grabs either side of me and STRETCHES ME! AHHHHHHHHHH! (And that is exactly what I did.) I'm screaming, "Stop it! Stop it!" and trying to crawl backwards off the table. Then I tell them I'm not pushing anymore, that I can't do it. But everyone stonewalls me, and I do. He comes out in a slimy way. They put him on my stomach and he's blue. I can't believe he's here. That it's over. That he's blue. That he's crying. I touch him and I'm saying "Oh my god" over and over. My throat is KILLING me and I can feel the cord between my legs.

So, my birth plan was shot to hell (which mainly involved getting my epidural then calling my parents, then updating my facebook status). But now I can be one of those smug people who say, "Oh, I didn't get an epidural." And being smug is one of my favorite things to do! But back to my moral. If I'd had my nurse, she would have told me this was actual labor and I would have gotten to the hospital MUCH sooner. Then perhaps I wouldn't have acted like a lunatic during the event. Oh well, Jackson better get used to having a psycho mom!

Labor is Really Going to Suck

I mean, DUH! OF COURSE it's going to suck. But I'm getting a taste of it now- and I realize I was in denial.

I've been having those Braxton Hicks contractions for a few weeks now. They started as nothing. My stomach would just tighten up. I wouldn't have even noticed I was having them if I hadn't rubbed my stomach at just the right time to feel them. About a week ago they progressed. I could feel them. It was like I was doing a sit-up, or holding a crunch. It didn't hurt, didn't feel weird, so everything was good.

Yesterday, they changed. For the worse. For the very, very worse! They have started to hurt! I even woke up 3 times last night. It feels like a superhuman cramp. Like I've got my period & a bad case of Mexican food all at once. Like some huge guy has reached into my stomach and is grabbing my muscles in his fist and squeezing really, really hard. Perhaps it feels like I'm being stabbed.... but I've never been stabbed, so I hesitate to use that analogy. OK, a huge guy has never squeezed my stomach muscles, but that seemed like a good visual description of what I feel.

I've been concerned enough today to google this- and it seems that if you are past 37 weeks (which I am, 38 yesterday), painful Braxton Hicks contractions are not unusual. And since they are irregular and as of Friday I'm still "high & tight," (That's summing up my OB/GYN visit this past Friday. No dilation, cervix still high and in the anterior position.) I'm not concerned that I've reached actual labor.

But damn, if this is FAKE labor....REAL labor is going to be hell! Here I was thinking I would hold off on the epidural for awhile (not to be brave or natural or anything crazy like that- but just because once I got one I'd be stuck in bed with a catheter shoved up my who-ha). Now I may just demand it right away. I may call on the way to the hospital and ask for them to have it ready when I get there. I'd go ahead and get one now if I could!

Tick Tock on the Clock but the Party don't stop.....

Pregnancy is a long, long waiting game. Let's take a look back and think about all the things you have to wait for.....

If you are trying to get pregnant, you begin each month by waiting to ovulate. Then you wait to find out if your period will begin. After an unable-to-be-predetermined amount of time you reach SUCCESS! But then the REAL waiting begins.

You wait for your 1st OB/GYN appointment. You wait until it's "safe" to tell your friends and family. You wait to hear the heartbeat each month. You wait for that day you NEED to put on those maternity pants. You wait (impatiently) for your ultrasound so that you can find out the sex of the baby. You wait to decorate the baby's room. You wait to register. You wait for your baby shower. You wait, and you wait, and you wait. Then at the end, you are just waiting..... for the waiting to end.

But I really needed to wait for those events. It made the 9 months bearable. If I had found out I was pregnant on Sunday, learned it was a boy on Monday, and turned into a whale on Tuesday, I wouldn't have made it. Those milestones were little celebrations along the way that kept me excited and happy.

The waiting that remains is the scariest of all. I'm waiting for labor to begin. I'm waiting to see how long my labor lasts. I'm waiting to meet my little boy. And I'm waiting to find out what kind of parents Art & I will be....

Eating My Words

.... because of my acid reflux, that's about all I'll be eating these days. The end is near, and the time of "misery" has set in. During these past 8 months I've been asked about all manner of ailments; each of which I've been able to shrug off with a smile and say, "No, I'm fine." At the same time I was gloating on the inside about how wonderful and easy my pregnancy was. I must admit that I was also feeling a bit awesome about myself (and about how much better I was than women in general) to be having such a great experience.

Well, I spoke to soon. It all seems to be hitting at once. That's karma for you.

Rowann said I would slow down and not want to walk, I disagreed. OK Rowann- YOU WERE RIGHT!

The birthing class lady asked if anyone has sore groin muscles. I rolled my eyes and thought- WHATEVER. Well, crap- now I wished I'd listen to what she said about soothing that ache.

Gina said she had horrible heartburn and acid reflux. I told her I had an iron stomach. Turns out it's an iron stomach swirling with acid that is getting pushed up my throat.

My feet are swelling (the left more than the right, gross!).

My walk has digressed into a waddle.

It's hard to stand up and sit down.

AND..... When I coughed today, I peed a little.

I'd say that I've hit rock bottom. But I can't! Doing so would only doom me to even more misery. I must suffer in silence.

I've heard more versions of "I couldn't wait to get that baby out" and "I was so sick of it at the end" than I care to recount. I assured the tale teller, and myself, that I was not going to feel that way. Being pregnant was cool! This could go on forever. Well crap.... I swear if those words come out of my mouth.... This is my last fortress of dignity. I will NOT lower myself that far. I still have to have SOME snotty standards you know.