Our Little Muenster

Delivery!

DISCLAIMER: I'm going to be pretty open about the details. I'll try not to be too graphic, but be warned that having a baby is pretty gross.

I woke up late on Friday, February 14. Very big, and not sleeping well, I had been snoozing til 8 or 9 every day while on prenatal disability leave. Neil was out for a run. I had my weekly appointment with my OB at 10am, so it was time to take a shower and get dressed. As I walked out of the bathroom to put clothes on, I felt a big gush of liquid rush out and down my legs onto the floor. My first thought was that I had finally lost bladder control. All the books and prenatal classes told me that labor almost never starts like it does in the movies, where the girl's water breaks in a big gush and they run to the hospital. But that's exactly what happened.

TIP #1: Have some pads handy. Even though you haven't needed them in 9 months, they will come in handy if your water breaks.

I cleaned myself up as best I could, and Neil got back from his run. I must have had a goofy look on my face, because he asked me how I was doing, and I said, "I think my water just broke." Neil exploded with excitement, "Did you call the doctor? What do we do now?!?!" I was totally relaxed. "We're about to go to the doctor's office," I said. "We can just tell her when we get there." Neil was adamant that I call the office and ask them what to do, so I did. And they said to go straight to the hospital.

We showed up at Sequoia Hospital around 10am and checked in. I still wasn't feeling any contractions.  They took us to the delivery room that was to be our home for the next three days, and the first of many nurses helped me get settled. She had me change into a gown and told me to get onto the bed. But the thing they don't tell you about your water breaking is... it doesn't stop. It just keeps leaking out. And according to the nurse, your body keeps making amniotic fluid as needed. So every time I stood up or shifted in my seat, I felt another warm gush. It was the strangest feeling. The first nurse did a quick test with a little strip of paper to check that it indeed was amniotic fluid, which by then was pretty obvious.

Next, I got hooked up to machines. There was a contraction and fetal heartrate monitor on my tummy, which was cordless so I could still get up and walk around. According to the monitors, I was having tiny contractions every 5 minutes or so, but I still couldn't feel them. The nurse told me that once the amniotic sac ruptures, there is a larger chance of infection reaching the baby, so they want the baby to get delivered in 24 hours. When I asked how far along I was, she told me she actually wouldn't examine me until I was having stronger contractions, because any examination brings more risk of infection.

So it was clear that we needed to get me in labor. They hooked me up to an IV to give me fluids and Pitocin, to induce contractions. The Pitocin drip went on a scale from 2 to 20 - they started me at 2, and then checked on me every hour or so to see how things were progressing and to bump it up as necessary. They try to increase the medication slowly, to let my body get involved and take over, so as to not be totally reliant on the drugs. It was the first time I had ever had an IV, and it freaked me out. I didn't watch the nurse insert it, and didn't move my arm for at least an hour. I didn't want to touch it. Having a tube in my arm seemed so foreign and strange. But I got used to it. And it all honesty, it wasn't that bad. It didn't hurt. More than anything else, it was just cumbersome. The nurses wanted me walking around to encourage contractions, so I had to wheel the stupid IV cart up and down the halls. And I had to take it with me into the bathroom, trying not to get tangled in the tubes as I got up and down.

Before I left the house, I ate a Luna Bar. In hindsight, I should have eaten more, because at the hospital, I was on a clear liquids diet. Tiny juice boxes and generic-brand gelatin were all I was allowed to eat. Yum.

My OB showed up mid-day to check on me. She said that everything looked good, but that she was likely not going to be around for my delivery. President's Day Weekend, soccer games for her kids, etc. I was disappointed, but not really concerned. I never felt like we had any sort of special relationship, and all the doctors in her practice were highly recommended. So I was going to meet a new random doctor that would deliver my kid. That's cool.

Then came the waiting. I read a John Grisham book on my Kindle. We watched the Olympics. I called my mom and my sister. I awkwardly strolled the halls, toting my IV, and sipped tiny juice boxes. The hours passed. The nurses bumped up the Pitocin.

By evening, I was finally starting to feel the contractions a bit, instead of just watching them pass on the monitors. The nurse asked about my preferences for pain relief, and I relayed my philosophy of "Don't be a hero." I wanted to remain mobile and flexible for a while, but at some point would likely want an epidural.

At one point in the evening, I had a mild wave of nausea. It was brief, just a few seconds. I thought to myself, "That was weird," and went on watching TV. I figured it was probably just my empty stomach or nerves or something. A short while later, I immediately felt the strong urge to vomit. Neil and I were alone in the room, and I said something like, "I think I'm going to throw-" and must have made a pretty obvious face. Neil ran and grabbed the garbage can and stuck it under my face just in time. I heaved a few times and it was over. The nurse came in just as I was finishing up, and took the trash can from Neil. She got me a cool washcloth and showed Neil the drawer where they keep the neat little barf bags.

TIP #2: Locate the barf bags EARLY in the process. And keep one within reach of the bed at all times.

The nurse basically said that was normal, and it was good that I got it "overwith" - hopefully it would just happen that once. I would later learn that I was not that lucky.

Finally at about 10:00 pm, 12 hours after arriving at the hospital, that point came. The contractions were getting intense. I was breathing through them and squeezing Neil's hand. Damn, they really hurt. I could have lasted a bit longer, but I figured that if an epidural was on the menu, there was not really a reason to suffer when I could be more comfortable. I flagged the nurse, who called for the anesthesiologist.

As a sidenote, around this time I started shivering. Massively, uncontrollably shivering. My legs were shaking all over the place, and I felt like a huge dork. I piled on blankets, but it didn't make a difference. I wasn't cold. I was just anxious.

TIP #3: You might get the shakes. It's ok. Apparently that's normal?

The epidural terrified me. Big needle in my spine? Ugh. The anesthesiologist was a young, dark-haired white kid. I feel like he was probably in a frat in college. He could have been on Grey's Anatomy. I actually had that cliche moment where I thought, "This can't be a doctor - he's just a kid!" He had me sit up on the side of the bed and lean forward, holding a pillow on my lap. I was absolutely convulsing with shivers at this point, and concerned about whether that would make the whole giant-needle-in-my-spine thing more difficult. But the doctor said it was normal and not a problem. He made me chuckle by telling me I had a great spine. He felt my spine with his fingers for a few moments, and robotically asked me things about allergies and whether I had had an anesthetic before. I could feel him rubbing some sort of disinfectant on my back. The poke itself was really not bad - not really any worse than a regular injection in the arm. A quick pinch, and it was over. The weirdest thing was actually all the tubes and tape. He put a giant sticker all down my back, holding the tubing in place (which was a good thing, obviously) and a tube with a small button over my shoulder that I could push for more drugs (obviously with a limit). He didn't have the greatest bedside manner (he accidentally yanked on my iv, and wheeled away my table with my water so it was out of reach) but he apparently knows his epidurals - the nurse later commented that I recovered feeling in my legs quickly, which is the sign of a good tap.

I didn't feel relief right away. And I actually called the anesthesiologist back in a bit later when I was still feeling fairly strong contraction pain. He bumped up the drugs a bit, and all was well. I was surprised at the effect - I was expecting not to be able to move my legs or wiggle my toes, but I could. The drugs didn't affect the ability to move my muscles, just the tactile sensation. If I touched the skin on my legs, I couldn't feel it. I guess it's kind of like getting a cavity filled? You can still move your jaw, but your skin feels numb. At that point, I really didn't feel the contractions anymore at all. I could see them happening on the monitor, but only felt the faintest tightening in my tummy. No pain.

After I was thoroughly numb, the nurse put in a catheter. While on the epidural, I couldn't get out of bed, so I wasn't able to go pee. Again, this was something that totally freaked me out in concept, but in practice wasn't at all bad. I couldn't feel anything, since I had the epidural. So other than the nurse looking up my gown and then having a pee tube taped to my leg, it wasn't a problem.

A few more hours went by, and the nurse kept coming in to check on my progress. Finally at about 2AM, the nurse informed me that I was fully dilated and ready to start pushing. She went to get the doctor to double-check. Then I met the on-call OB that would be delivering my child! Dr. Merryfield was nice enough - she basically gave the nurse the ok for me to start pushing, and then left, joking that she hoped it would be quick because she wanted to get home by 4am. Ha. I'll do my best, lady.

The nurse at that time was a nice eastern European lady named Uta. She was great at explaining everything as we went, and very calm and in control. Exactly what you want in a nurse. The pushing went like this: I watched the monitor and looked for the start of a contraction (sometimes I could feel the tightening, sometimes not) When it was rising, I signaled to Uta and Neil, usually saying something like, "Ok, here's another one" or "Ok, here we go". Uta stood on one side of the bed, and Neil was on the other. They each held one of my feet, and I grabbed behind my thighs and pulled my knees up to my chest. Neil would say, "Breathe" and I would take a deep breath. Then he would slowly count to ten, while I held my breath and pushed. Then I took another breath. Another count of ten. Sometimes a third breath and push for ten, and then I would relax. I had about a minute to relax before the next one came.

Honestly, I wasn't sure I was doing it right. I was pretty numb below the waist. I could feel some pressure, but that was about it. I tried to do something between an abdominal crunch and pushing out a poop, but without any feedback sensation, I really didn't know whether it was working. Uta would check my progress every half hour or so, and said that I was steadily moving the baby downward. It's a slow "two steps forward, one step back" process. So I had to trust her that I was doing something right. She would give me tips along the way, like better body mechanics, slower pushing, shifting position, etc.

I pushed FOR. EV. ER. Uta gave me a cool washcloth for my forehead, which felt nice. And she gave me an oxygen mask to breath between pushes, for extra energy. Really, it wasn't that bad. I started getting a little tired after a few hours. But I felt like I was in some sort of trance or time warp. I didn't feel bored or frustrated. I didn't even realize how much time was passing. I just kept focusing on each push, and trying to relax between. Neil was amazing. He kept that steady count coming for hours, totally focused on making me as comfortable as possible. 3 o'clock passed. Then 4 o'clock. The OB came in to check on me, and Uta told her that I was still making progress, just slowly. So Dr. Merryfield told me to keep at it, as long as I had the energy. She said that after 3 hours, we could see about using a vacuum extractor to help get the baby out.

At the 3 hour mark, Uta asked if I was ready to quit. I asked if I was still making progress, and she said yes, so I said I was willing to keep going. The baby's heartbeat was still very strong, and the contractions were regular. The only concern she had was that if I need help with the vacuum, I would have to have enough energy left to really push it out. I said that I was tough, and would let her know when I was running out of steam.

Finally at 6am, Dr. Merryfield said it was time to finish this up. She asked if I was ok with the vacuum extraction, and I was. The next half hour was a blur. Dr. Merryfield scrubbed up, and the room filled with people. I don't even know how many or for what purposes. I was still focused on the counting, breathing, and pushing. They pulled up stirrups on the bed, and removed the part of the mattress that was under my legs, so I was magically in the position to have a doctor deliver the kid. I saw that Uta was standing next to the bed with some sort of pump and hose. Lots of people talking and bustling around. Dr. Merryfield told me that I was doing great with the pushing and that she could see hair. She needed me to rest for a second while she got the vacuum in place, and then she would tell me to push really hard. Again, with the epidural, I didn't feel anything at all. Later, they told me that we had to do two pushes with the vacuum attached - I didn't even notice at the time. All I knew was that there was a little pressure in my pelvis and a lot of intensely focused medical professionals looking up my robe. I heard words like "shoulders" and "big." Then, at 6:31 am, there was a release of pressure and some slipperyness, and a baby started crying. MY baby!

Next thing I know, there were two people on either side of the bed sort of toweling off a sticky baby that they plopped on my chest. No one made any big announcement, so Neil had to try to get a peek underneath and excitedly whispered, "It's a boy!" This little pink, sticky miracle of life was suddenly right in my face. He now had a gender and a name, and everything else in the room disappeared. There was just me, Neil, and Benjamin. His little eyes were squeezed shut. He had a head full of wavy hair. 10 tiny curled fingers and 10 little nubby toes. Long slender legs and arms. He laid peacefully on my chest, just breathing and making small wiggly movements. We had both had a long day. But he was finally here. He was mine, and he was perfect.