February 19, 2010

Labor and Delivery

Ah, labor, the final step before holding your baby in your arms instead of your womb. On the evening of February 4th I had a feeling that my water had broke. Then, to confirm this I began having contractions. I had contractions until 4 am when they pretty much stopped. Feeling very confused I called my doctor in the morning.

“Come on in.” he told me.

Adam and I packed our things (just in case) and headed to the doctor’s office located above the women’s hospital where I would eventually deliver.

We got to the office around 10:30 on February 5th, and were sent down to Labor and Delivery shortly after. They hooked me up to Pitocin around noon. I hate Pitocin. It’s the devil’s drug, making contractions ten times worse, and I’m lucky enough to have had Pitocin with every delivery. What a prize to be won!

Around the same time it had begun to snow. I’m just glad we got there before the storm that dumped feet of snow on Pittsburgh. Adam wasn’t so happy. He has always wanted to deliver one of the kids himself. He has grand visions of driving me to the hospital and then having to pull off on the side of the road, roll up his sleeves, and deliver his offspring like a pro……..Uh, no thank you. First off, I tell him, “You’re a chef, not a doctor. It’s not like taking a turkey out of the oven.” I can just see it. He’d take the baby out with a pair of tongs and put it lovingly in a pan of warm water. Scary. Second, I want an epidural. He’s cruel and unusual to wish extra pain on me just to have something to put on his resume. (Yes, he’s mentioned it.)

After getting my epidural, I laid on my side and watched huge white flakes fall from the sky. It was beautiful. It helped take my mind off the fact that my contractions weren’t strong or regular enough to have a baby any time soon. To add to my frustration Adam was restless. He’s never had to wait long in the hospital for a baby to be born. I usually get there and POW….done. This time was different and Adam didn’t know what to do with himself. He went through all the drawers, put on a stethoscope and listened to my heart beat and my stomach. He finally had enough and tried to lure the baby out with a trail of Skittles.

Lesson 47: Luring your child out of the womb with a trail of Skittles = white trash

Around 7pm all the nurses had left me and Adam decided he was going to go to the bathroom. I was all alone watching Jeopardy. I thought to myself, “This baby is never going to come out.” Right after the thought crossed my mind my body doubled over as it tried to push a baby out on its own. “Oh crap,” I thought to myself, “Button, where’s that emergency button?!” I looked up and spotted what I needed. I stretched my arm out but the darn thing was just out of reach. I will never make fun of those, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” commercials ever again. I looked to the door but no one was coming to save me. No Adam, no nurse. I was going to have a baby all by myself.

Then I heard it. The most beautiful sound, my nurse coming through the door, “Someone’s having a baby.” She sang out.

How did she know?

Adam returned from the bathroom, “Who’s having a baby?”

“Meeeee.” I grunted, not able to speak in my normal tone. I was trying so hard not to push that my voice sounded like a caveman learning to talk or Satan after suffering a stroke. I haven’t been able to decide which one is more accurate.

Within minutes, a flood of nurses were by my side. “We’ve paged your doctor, but we can’t find him. Don’t push.”

“Seeeeeriouslyyyyyy?!” the caveman asked.

Adam ran to my side and held my hand as I turned his bones to jelly. You think pushing is hard? Try keeping a baby in. Did you ever have to poop so bad that you’re walking on your tiptoes holding your butt cheeks together the whole way to the bathroom just to find out there is already someone on the pot taking their time, and you are reduced to breaking a sweat while dancing outside the bathroom door as you prairie-dog it? Imagine your feces is a 7lb 11oz child. A thousand times worse. Trust me.

Ten minutes passed and they still hadn’t found my doctor.

“I’m starting to worry. I don’t know if your doctor will make it. If the baby starts to come out I know what to do.” the doctor-in-training told me.

I looked over and saw Adam’s face light up. “Maybe I can talk her into letting me catch the baby.” he whispered.

“Staaaaaaayyyy awaaaaaay from meeeeeee!” Satan responded.

He ignored me. “Should I scrub up? Put on a gown?” he giddily asked. “Let’s do this thing!” he shouted.

I rolled over to face the onslaught of nurses. “Keeeeeeep him awaaaaaaay from meeeeeee!” It was definitely stroke Satan this time because I’m pretty sure there was fire in my eyes.

Adam’s hopes were dashed when seconds later, my doctor came into the room. He had been delivering another woman’s baby, whose doctor wasn’t able to make it in to the hospital because of the horrible weather.

“Ok Jess, give me a little push.” my doctor told me.

Hello? I’ve been holding this child in for over 15 minutes. I guess my 'little push' was a whole lot different than the 'little push' he meant. I gave one push and the entire medical faculty in the room yelled at once, “Whoa! Whoa! Stop. Stop.”
“No more pushing Jess. Just wait a minute.” my doctor said.

Ugh! I threw my head back on the pillow and looked up at the TV. I sighed and audibly solved the puzzle on Wheel of Fortune. My doctor looked up at me and then the TV and gave a little smirk.

Lesson 48: Being able to take time to solve a puzzle on Wheel of Fortune during the hardest part of labor = the sad truth that I’ve had one too many babies!

Stone was out seconds later, ready to face the world. He had dark hair, dark blue eyes that will most definitely be brown like mine, and despite the snow storm raging outside, he was born with a beautiful tan, compliments of either my dad’s or Adam’s dad’s genes. (Neither of us were lucky enough to get that nice skin, but half of our kids have it.)

Welcome to the world baby Stone! We’re so happy you’re here!

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