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!