I wish I had the power to blog telekinetically. If that were the case, I would have had this post up months ago.
Alas, I don't, but here it is - finally:
My due date was Mon. September 18th, and as you may recall, in the days prior I was scrambling to get things ready for my son's arrival. And though I had been experiencing some minor cramping over the weekend, I really didn't think it was anything significant. So come Monday, I went off to work. And things went fine. A little cramping here and there, but nothing much. In the afternoon, I decided to do more packing for my upcoming office move. I stayed until 6pm doing that. Right before I left, I decided to lift a giant bag of trash into the dumpster.
On the drive home I started to feel as though I had heartburn. But I didn't give it much thought. Even though I knew that the onset of labor could feel like heartburn or stomach cramps. So when I got to the house, I told M that I had a stomach ache and that I was going to lie down. As the hours passed, the cramping became more rhythmic, and perhaps a bit more intense, but I still did not think much of it. It was still very tolerable, so I chalked it up to pre-labor cramping not actual contractions. Yeah. In hindsight, I think I was more afraid of labor than I wanted to admit, and I was in denial that it was actually happening. M checked on me a couple of times, but I assured him that I was fine.
But come midnight, I finally realized that the cramping was too strong and too fast (less than 5 min apart) so I called for M and told him that perhaps this was it. Just then, I felt a sharp jab in my lower abdomen and then a popping sensation. I jumped off the bed and a couple seconds later, fluid hit the floor. Not a whole bunch, but it was enough of a splash to tell me that my water had broken.
And then things got crazy. After my water broke, the contractions got really strong and really fast (less than two minutes apart), and I started to panic. I went into the bathroom and got on my hands and knees and then sort of froze in terror. I told M that I was really afraid and that I didn't know what to do. I was now moaning and rocking as the contractions came. M decided to play it safe and call an ambulance.
We can practically see the firehouse from our yard, so the EMTs were at our door about a minute later. I was wearing nothing but a skimpy nightgown, but they wouldn't let me take the time to put on anything else. So I went out the door with no underwear, no shoes, nothing but the nightie. Thankfully my hospital bag was packed, so M grabbed that and we were off.
The ambulance ride was nuts. They clocked my contractions at 86 seconds apart. The gurney was really narrow and I had to cling on to keep from rolling off at each turn. The contractions hurt like hell, and I was sweating buckets. I had my legs up and splayed which felt really weird, because there was a giant window at the rear of the ambulance. The guys assured that people couldn't see in, but at that point I really didn't care all that much. They kept checking to see if the baby was crowning (very possible with contractions that close), but he wasn't yet.
When we got to the hospital, I got to skip triage, and they sent me straight to a delivery room. Within minutes, a team of medical professionals were in there -- buzzing around, hooking me up to monitors, taking my history, etc. They told me someone would be in soon to examine me. Contractions were still strong and fast. I'm a little blurry here -- I remember doctors/med students asking me questions. Sometimes I could talk; sometimes I couldn't. Then at some point they did a cervical check. I don't remember if that hurt. It all sort of blends together as general misery. I figured that I must be near the transition phase of labor, seeing as I barely had seconds to rest between each contraction.
Um. Yeah.
After the exam (I don't remember who did it), I was told (and I don't remember by whom) that I was one centimeter dilated. One. Centimeter. I couldn't believe it. I had been one at one centimeter for two weeks already. How could I be going through all that and just be one centimeter?
So they asked me if I would like to have an epidural. "Yes," I said, "Yes, yes, I would."
They put in the order. My epidural was administered at one centimeter. I'm a toughie, eh? But the contractions were truly strong. It's just that my cervix was being stubborn.
Anyway, twenty minutes after the anesthesiologist left my room, the pain started to subside. And then I felt no pain at all. I could see the contractions on the monitor, but I felt absolutely nothing. The nurses rolled in a bed for M. and told us to get some sleep - they'd be back in a few hours to check on me.
M crawled into bed and was out in minutes. But I didn't feel much like sleeping, even though I knew that I should. Instead I just watched the monitors and the clock. It was 1 am.
At that point, I had no idea when the real fun would start. All I could do was to watch and wait.
TBC...