My pregnancy was miserable. I felt ill more days than not; I had more food aversions than I could name; she "quickened" early and immediately started doing a sideways stretch that led one of my doctors to believe she was in a transverse lie at one point; I was exhausted all the time (partially because I became anemic); I was in almost constant pain (partially from carrying her weight and mostly from her physically beating me up from the inside); I had unbearable heartburn; and I was barely sleeping by the last trimester. Her brother had come earlier and faster than I'd expected, so I hoped for a similar experience with her. My doctors seemed pleased with how "smoothly" my pregnancy was going on paper and told me that she was measuring a little smaller than her brother, but not so much so that I should worry. Everything "looked" wonderful! I didn't feel wonderful. I wanted this baby out!
By my calculations, I was "due" December 18th (my doctors set my "official due date" at December 12th). On Wednesday, November 29th I started having intense contractions. I was hopeful that this was it and tried to keep moving. For much of the afternoon, they were coming in steady 10 minute intervals, but as evening approached, they spread out more and more. "Surely," I thought, "this means it won't be long now, even if she's not coming today." I was so, so wrong. From that point on, I stayed in prodromal labor, complete with "real" contractions and nasty mucus.
On Sunday, December 2nd, I was surprised with a baby shower. Sadly, only my mother, sister, mother-in-law, and sister-in-law could make it, but it was way more than I expected for my second child and we had fun making a cast of my gigantic belly. Nothing like a few hours to focus on the joy instead of the misery!
I was completely whiny and SO done with this prodromal labor nonsense when things picked up again! Early in the evening on Thursday, December 6th, I started having intense, regular contractions again. By 8pm, they were 4 minutes apart and staying strong and steady. Surely, this was it! Lukas had come fast, and at that point we suspected Genevieve was transverse, so I went ahead and called my doctor. I wanted this baby OUT, not high-fiving the kitchen floor because we waited to call. He said to come on in, so we dropped Lukas off with Grandma and away we went. I texted my sister and our birth photographer to warn them, but told them to hold off coming in until we were admitted.
The hospital. Oh, the hospital. "When are you due?" "12/12" "What's your birthdate?" "12/12/85" "Really?" No, I just made that up to throw you off. "Yes, really." "Has your water broken?" "I don't think so, but I'm not sure--It could be a slow leak." "We'll get you a wheel chair." "That's OK, I'd rather walk." "Are you sure?" "Yes." Triage on the maternity ward was full, so into a regular room I went for evaluation. Three Nurses descended at once. Strapping on monitors, taking vitals, and quizzing me down. "When's your due date?" "12/12" "When were you born?" "12/12/85" "Really?" "Yes, really." On and on and on went the questions. The same as they'd asked at the front desk. Same as I'd filled out on my preregistration paperwork. (Why did I even bother preregistering?) My blood pressure was high (I have social anxiety and just had my blood pressure taken while being strapped to a bed and interrogated--gee, why on Earth would it be high?), but my water had not broken. I was dilated to 4 cm, but stalled (just like I had with Lukas) as soon as I'd gotten to the hospital, so they left me to wait for the doctor while on the monitor to see how things progressed.
I won't get into it all (mostly because I can't remember the specifics any longer), but the whole experience was terrible. The nurses seemed to write me off when I told them I wasn't interested in pain medication. They left me on the monitor strapped to the bed for over an hour at a time. At one point, I gave up waiting for a call-light answer and ripped the monitors off myself just so I could use the bathroom. Laying in bed was agony. No one seemed to want to talk to me and when they did, they were very ambiguous. Finally, I was basically told to start Pitocen or go home. I wasn't interested in a medicinal induction, so I went home. As I stopped for each contraction on my way back to the car, my sister announced, "This is such a bad idea."
It was after midnight when we got home. I knelt next to the bed, swaying through contractions until I basically gave up at 2:30am and crawled into bed, telling my body to just stop it. I was too tired. And it did stop it. Gradually, the contractions slowed down until they were 10 minutes apart, then 30, then totally irregular and less urgently strong. I slept as much as I could between contractions.
The next day, I saw my doctor for my 38 week appointment. He let me know that I was still dilated to every bit of that 4cm, that he wasn't bothered by my calling in the night, and not to even hesitate to call should it happen again. My anger toward the hospital experience turned to relief toward my doctors. We set up a 39 week appointment, complete with NST and hoped against hope that we wouldn't make that appointment.
The prodromal labor continued. We did have to come to the 39 week appointment. The NST showed that I was having nice strong contractions (which I already knew) and that they weren't bothering the baby, she was just fine. I refused a cervical check. I was already miserable and numbers would tell me precisely nothing at this point, so I didn't want to torture myself further. We made the 40 week appointment for December 21st and, yet again, hoped against hope that we wouldn't make it to that appointment!
I woke up with strong, regular contractions yet again on Saturday, December 15th. Was this FINALLY it?! Lukas had spent the night with Grandma, so I texted her to let her know that she might be keeping him, but I wasn't sure. By 11am, it was obvious that things weren't going anywhere and Grandma brought Lukas home. It was becoming clear that I was NEVER going to have this baby!
That Sunday night, I was up late watching TV and messing around on my laptop, as usual. Night time was miserable. The baby was super active and my heartburn was at it's worst until about 2:30am. I'd long since given up on sleep and just stayed up until 2:30 magically rolled around and I had half a chance at sleeping. I was finally getting ready for bed and had just gotten undressed when I heard Lukas start to cry. Into his room I went to check on him. He'd wet the bed. Poor baby! I consoled him and led him to the bathroom. We stripped off clothes and tossed them in the diaper pail. I had him try to go potty and then I went potty (seems like that's all us super-pregnant ladies do, really). We washed our hands and headed back to his room. He was freezing, so I helped him into his pajamas and then stripped the bed. I grabbed his extra bedding out of the closet and plopped it down in the rocking chair. As I leaned over to tuck the fitted mattress pad over the far corner of his mattress I felt something warm and wet drip onto my leg. "Did I just pee myself? Really?! I JUST used the toilet!" I thought. I stood back up and it happened again. "That's weird. I don't FEEL like I'm peeing myself..." I took a couple of steps back and a larger gush fell to the ground. "That's not urine...my water broke!"
I went to the bathroom to make sure it wasn't pee. It most certainly was not. I went to wake my husband, toddler in tow, leaving a trail behind me. Lukas was concerned that I wasn't wiping up the mess I was making on the floor. I laughed as I put a call in to my doctor's answering service. They told me to call again if I didn't get a call back in 10 minutes. I texted Grandma to let her know Lukas was coming over for the night. Everybody got dressed. I started packing Lukas's things. 10 minutes passed. No call. I called back. They put me through directly to my doctor. I told him that my water just broke.
The groggy voice came back over the line, "You're kidding me." I could hear him waking up as he spoke to me. Asking about contractions, etc. He told me not to rush, but to gather myself and meet him at the hospital. I hung up and finished packing Lukas's things so we could head out. I was getting nervous as we dropped Lukas off with Grandma; it'd been an hour and I'd hardly had a contraction.
We arrived at the hospital and I went in to start the check in process. Yes, my doctor knew I was coming. Yes, my due date and my birthday are the same day--REALLY. Yes, my water had broken. No, I did not want a wheel chair. Yes, I really did want to walk. Yes, I really was fine to walk.
They led me to a room and strapped on the monitors while they continued with the questions. I let them know that my sister was coming and that I had a birth photographer coming, as well. I was taking my placenta home to be encapsulated, so they needed to leave it alone. I did not plan on using pain medication. I wanted to be out of bed. My nurse assured me that she totally understood and that she was a "crunchy nurse". I warned them that I had tricky veins as they prepared to start the line in case I needed an IV for any reason. After two failed attempts by two different nurses, they called in the charge nurse, who managed to get it in. I'd been laying in bed for over an hour now and contractions were finally starting. They checked my cervix at a "stretchy" 6 cm. Laying down was so not comfortable anymore. I needed to move. As soon as the IV was in, they released me to walk the halls. No one else had arrived yet, so Andrew and I headed out on our own.
I'd only had a few contractions and they weren't really regular yet, so I intended to keep walking for some time. We were nearly back to the room after our first loop around when a contraction hit me so hard I could barely stand. A wave of nausea rushed over me as the nurses stood in the doorway looking prepared to catch me if I started to fall. As soon as it passed, they assured me that nausea was a sign that things were progressing quickly. I stumbled into the room and kneeled down next to the bed. The nurse set a bucket in front of me just in case and left me to my laboring.
I was shaking and retching like I had during transition with Lukas. Another contraction came. "If this is only 6 cm, there's no way I can do this," I thought. BAM. Something clicked in my head. That is the mindset of a woman in transition. "I think I'm in transition," I told Andrew. I was suddenly SO hot. I tore off the gown and crouched there in the silly mesh panties they'd given me so I could walk the halls without gushing water everywhere. The nurse entered. "She was hot," I heard Andrew explain. My eyes were closed as I leaned over the bucket, breathing deeply. I was very uncomfortable, but the contractions seemed to be spaced very far apart. "Doesn't bother me," I heard the nurse say and she left the room again.
As I groaned through the next contraction, I felt my body start to push. As soon as it passed, I warned Andrew, "That one felt pushy." He was gone. Into the hallway, telling the nurse. She came quickly and had me get in bed so she could check me. She told me I had a little lip of cervix, but I could definitely push past it. Then came another contraction. It was agony, but I couldn't make my body move enough to get up in the middle of it. I felt like I was being crushed to death and ripped apart at the same time. They wanted me on the bed, so as soon as it passed, I pulled myself up onto my knees again and raised the head of the bed. This way I could face the head of the bed and lean against the top while I kneeled on the bed, just like I'd been doing on the floor next to the bed. Ah...much more comfortable.
My sister found me like this as she entered the room with my pillow in hand, as requested. I rested my head against the top of the bed waiting for the next contraction to come. I heard my doctor enter behind me. He made a comment asking what we were doing and if I'd stalled because he was there. I knew I hadn't, but was too in-the-zone to step out and explain that my contractions were just coming really far apart. I was so not. going. to move.
Then the contraction came and I went with it and pushed. I felt that familiar grind of her bones passing through mine. The contraction faded. "Don't push. Let your body ease into it so you don't tear so badly," I thought, urging myself to wait for the next contraction. "KEEP PUSHING!" shouted the nurse and the doctor. I felt something pull and twist as I kept pushing and then she was born. (Later, I was told that the head and one shoulder had emerged with that first contraction. The pull and twist I'd felt had been my doctor supporting the head and guiding the shoulders through.)
I flipped around and lifted a leg over the cord so my doctor could pass her to me. Finally! There she was. "THAT is NOT a small baby," I thought as I scooped her into my arms and snuggled her against my chest. All 22" and 8lbs, 9.9oz of her.
The birth photographer did not make it (heck, my own sister barely made it!). My water had broken around 2:30 am on December 17th; I'd arrived at the hospital around 4:00am; her time of birth was 5:50am. I could not get over how huge she looked and how different she looked from her brother.
When all was said and done and everyone had left the room so Andrew and I could get some sleep, I turned to him and said, "I could go for never doing that again." We laughed and snuggled this sweet baby and got bits and pieces of sleep. Finally.
I won't get into it all (mostly because I can't remember the specifics any longer), but the whole experience was terrible. The nurses seemed to write me off when I told them I wasn't interested in pain medication. They left me on the monitor strapped to the bed for over an hour at a time. At one point, I gave up waiting for a call-light answer and ripped the monitors off myself just so I could use the bathroom. Laying in bed was agony. No one seemed to want to talk to me and when they did, they were very ambiguous. Finally, I was basically told to start Pitocen or go home. I wasn't interested in a medicinal induction, so I went home. As I stopped for each contraction on my way back to the car, my sister announced, "This is such a bad idea."
It was after midnight when we got home. I knelt next to the bed, swaying through contractions until I basically gave up at 2:30am and crawled into bed, telling my body to just stop it. I was too tired. And it did stop it. Gradually, the contractions slowed down until they were 10 minutes apart, then 30, then totally irregular and less urgently strong. I slept as much as I could between contractions.
The next day, I saw my doctor for my 38 week appointment. He let me know that I was still dilated to every bit of that 4cm, that he wasn't bothered by my calling in the night, and not to even hesitate to call should it happen again. My anger toward the hospital experience turned to relief toward my doctors. We set up a 39 week appointment, complete with NST and hoped against hope that we wouldn't make that appointment.
The prodromal labor continued. We did have to come to the 39 week appointment. The NST showed that I was having nice strong contractions (which I already knew) and that they weren't bothering the baby, she was just fine. I refused a cervical check. I was already miserable and numbers would tell me precisely nothing at this point, so I didn't want to torture myself further. We made the 40 week appointment for December 21st and, yet again, hoped against hope that we wouldn't make it to that appointment!
I woke up with strong, regular contractions yet again on Saturday, December 15th. Was this FINALLY it?! Lukas had spent the night with Grandma, so I texted her to let her know that she might be keeping him, but I wasn't sure. By 11am, it was obvious that things weren't going anywhere and Grandma brought Lukas home. It was becoming clear that I was NEVER going to have this baby!
That Sunday night, I was up late watching TV and messing around on my laptop, as usual. Night time was miserable. The baby was super active and my heartburn was at it's worst until about 2:30am. I'd long since given up on sleep and just stayed up until 2:30 magically rolled around and I had half a chance at sleeping. I was finally getting ready for bed and had just gotten undressed when I heard Lukas start to cry. Into his room I went to check on him. He'd wet the bed. Poor baby! I consoled him and led him to the bathroom. We stripped off clothes and tossed them in the diaper pail. I had him try to go potty and then I went potty (seems like that's all us super-pregnant ladies do, really). We washed our hands and headed back to his room. He was freezing, so I helped him into his pajamas and then stripped the bed. I grabbed his extra bedding out of the closet and plopped it down in the rocking chair. As I leaned over to tuck the fitted mattress pad over the far corner of his mattress I felt something warm and wet drip onto my leg. "Did I just pee myself? Really?! I JUST used the toilet!" I thought. I stood back up and it happened again. "That's weird. I don't FEEL like I'm peeing myself..." I took a couple of steps back and a larger gush fell to the ground. "That's not urine...my water broke!"
I went to the bathroom to make sure it wasn't pee. It most certainly was not. I went to wake my husband, toddler in tow, leaving a trail behind me. Lukas was concerned that I wasn't wiping up the mess I was making on the floor. I laughed as I put a call in to my doctor's answering service. They told me to call again if I didn't get a call back in 10 minutes. I texted Grandma to let her know Lukas was coming over for the night. Everybody got dressed. I started packing Lukas's things. 10 minutes passed. No call. I called back. They put me through directly to my doctor. I told him that my water just broke.
The groggy voice came back over the line, "You're kidding me." I could hear him waking up as he spoke to me. Asking about contractions, etc. He told me not to rush, but to gather myself and meet him at the hospital. I hung up and finished packing Lukas's things so we could head out. I was getting nervous as we dropped Lukas off with Grandma; it'd been an hour and I'd hardly had a contraction.
We arrived at the hospital and I went in to start the check in process. Yes, my doctor knew I was coming. Yes, my due date and my birthday are the same day--REALLY. Yes, my water had broken. No, I did not want a wheel chair. Yes, I really did want to walk. Yes, I really was fine to walk.
They led me to a room and strapped on the monitors while they continued with the questions. I let them know that my sister was coming and that I had a birth photographer coming, as well. I was taking my placenta home to be encapsulated, so they needed to leave it alone. I did not plan on using pain medication. I wanted to be out of bed. My nurse assured me that she totally understood and that she was a "crunchy nurse". I warned them that I had tricky veins as they prepared to start the line in case I needed an IV for any reason. After two failed attempts by two different nurses, they called in the charge nurse, who managed to get it in. I'd been laying in bed for over an hour now and contractions were finally starting. They checked my cervix at a "stretchy" 6 cm. Laying down was so not comfortable anymore. I needed to move. As soon as the IV was in, they released me to walk the halls. No one else had arrived yet, so Andrew and I headed out on our own.
I'd only had a few contractions and they weren't really regular yet, so I intended to keep walking for some time. We were nearly back to the room after our first loop around when a contraction hit me so hard I could barely stand. A wave of nausea rushed over me as the nurses stood in the doorway looking prepared to catch me if I started to fall. As soon as it passed, they assured me that nausea was a sign that things were progressing quickly. I stumbled into the room and kneeled down next to the bed. The nurse set a bucket in front of me just in case and left me to my laboring.
I was shaking and retching like I had during transition with Lukas. Another contraction came. "If this is only 6 cm, there's no way I can do this," I thought. BAM. Something clicked in my head. That is the mindset of a woman in transition. "I think I'm in transition," I told Andrew. I was suddenly SO hot. I tore off the gown and crouched there in the silly mesh panties they'd given me so I could walk the halls without gushing water everywhere. The nurse entered. "She was hot," I heard Andrew explain. My eyes were closed as I leaned over the bucket, breathing deeply. I was very uncomfortable, but the contractions seemed to be spaced very far apart. "Doesn't bother me," I heard the nurse say and she left the room again.
As I groaned through the next contraction, I felt my body start to push. As soon as it passed, I warned Andrew, "That one felt pushy." He was gone. Into the hallway, telling the nurse. She came quickly and had me get in bed so she could check me. She told me I had a little lip of cervix, but I could definitely push past it. Then came another contraction. It was agony, but I couldn't make my body move enough to get up in the middle of it. I felt like I was being crushed to death and ripped apart at the same time. They wanted me on the bed, so as soon as it passed, I pulled myself up onto my knees again and raised the head of the bed. This way I could face the head of the bed and lean against the top while I kneeled on the bed, just like I'd been doing on the floor next to the bed. Ah...much more comfortable.
My sister found me like this as she entered the room with my pillow in hand, as requested. I rested my head against the top of the bed waiting for the next contraction to come. I heard my doctor enter behind me. He made a comment asking what we were doing and if I'd stalled because he was there. I knew I hadn't, but was too in-the-zone to step out and explain that my contractions were just coming really far apart. I was so not. going. to move.
Then the contraction came and I went with it and pushed. I felt that familiar grind of her bones passing through mine. The contraction faded. "Don't push. Let your body ease into it so you don't tear so badly," I thought, urging myself to wait for the next contraction. "KEEP PUSHING!" shouted the nurse and the doctor. I felt something pull and twist as I kept pushing and then she was born. (Later, I was told that the head and one shoulder had emerged with that first contraction. The pull and twist I'd felt had been my doctor supporting the head and guiding the shoulders through.)
I flipped around and lifted a leg over the cord so my doctor could pass her to me. Finally! There she was. "THAT is NOT a small baby," I thought as I scooped her into my arms and snuggled her against my chest. All 22" and 8lbs, 9.9oz of her.
The birth photographer did not make it (heck, my own sister barely made it!). My water had broken around 2:30 am on December 17th; I'd arrived at the hospital around 4:00am; her time of birth was 5:50am. I could not get over how huge she looked and how different she looked from her brother.
When all was said and done and everyone had left the room so Andrew and I could get some sleep, I turned to him and said, "I could go for never doing that again." We laughed and snuggled this sweet baby and got bits and pieces of sleep. Finally.
