ANYWAY! I was going to tell you the story of Esmé's delivery.
**********Don't read this if birth stories gross you out.**********
Well, the first night, I was just waiting for my cervix to dilate, and while doing so, was connected to an IV of morphine, which meant we had to be on fetal monitoring overnight. I was sleeping on my side (poor Dan had to sleep on the most uncomfortable & drafty bed, ever) and the baby kept moving away from the monitor. So about every 20 minutes, a nurse would come in and reattach the monitor and search for the baby. Luckily her heart rate was always strong. It was hard to sleep and as I mentioned, we watched a few episodes of Firefly. Also, Lord of the Rings was on--which was lovely. It's been so long since I've seen it, I kept forgetting about each scene in the movie.
During the insertion of the foley bulb, the nurse mused the mthat my pain tolerance seemed quite high and i tried to say that it was orphine, but in reality, I was in a great deal of pain--but didn't want to admit to it.
Around 4:30 in the morning, after being awakened a bazillion times in the middle of the night, the nursemidwife came to check on the foley-bulb, which is something they insert to quicken the dilation, and my water broke. I'd also made it to 3cm, which was where I needed to be to begin the contractions. I didn't want to forget what time it had happened, so I sent myself an email: water broke.
At this time, I had one more quick IV of morphine and then we began the smallest dose of pitocin. I was very *anti*pitocin--it's like the EVIL DRUG of birthing--at least that's how it's portrayed these days. However, there was no choice--the baby needed to come out now that her amniotic fluid had broken. At this time, I also had an IV of pencillian since I was Group B strep positive. (yuck/>)
And so we began contractions. One every 5 minutes. I thought I could handle them--but I couldn't. A doula was sent in to help. I was struggling a LOT with the pain. Dan helped me a lot, but if he wasn't with me during the contraction, I got scared. I didn't know how to breathe through it. I panicked each time.
Our doula came and really got me through the next 4 hours of contractions--she helped me breathe each time. I tried to walk around and nearly fell asleep standing up. I lost track of every single conversation we were having. I talked about imaginary people (the doula's sons? She doesn't have any sons.) My teeth started chattering uncontrollably. I drank orange juice, water, and had some food. Still chattering. I was shaking. Around noon, I asked for an epidural. Then I recanted. "I don't need the epidural!" Then I'd have a contraction and decide I wanted it.
Finally, around 3 PM, I'd had enough. Yes, yes, yes, I definitely wanted the epidural. I had to wait for the IV to come so I could have enough fluid to accept the epidural. We also had to find someone to administer it--and it turned out to be THE DIRECTOR of the anesthesiology department for the whole hospital. The poor man took about 3 phone calls (and mentioned he'd have to do that) before we could administer it. During that time, we checked to see how many cm dilated I was. The answer: 4 cm. After nearly 11 hours, I'd only gone up one centimeter. Ugh. It solidified my decision to go for the epidural.
It was wonderful. I didn't feel anything for awhile. I could take my nap. The nurses bumped up the pitocin for me to increase the contractions, which displayed on a pretty board for me to watch & not feel.
Around 5:45pm or 6pm, though, I started to feel a lot of pressure. It felt like...well, it felt like it was time to start pushing. I mentioned it to the nurse, who said that it wasn't likely that I'd feel that so soon. I said that I felt something, though, and gave myself another dose of the epidural medication. (Push this button!) The nurse did check and was surprised that I was at 9 cm already.
I was sort of surprised, too. Poor Dan had snuck off to a corner to try to get a nap as well, since he really needed it. The nurse said I could start pushing as much as I felt like--and they would get set up for delivery. I remember they moved a bunch of stuff around, but I was just focused on pushing with the contractions.
And I really started to feel it. I know I had the epidural, and they said I'd feel the pressure, but not the pain--yet it seemed I was feeling both.
Nurse change-over in the hospital is from 6:30pm-7pm--so both nursemidwifes were in the room with me. I felt bad, I wanted to delay the delivery for them until after their shift, but there was really no stopping it. I said a lot of weird things while pushing.
"I'm afraid of the dark!"
I asked for the forceps and extraction. They were, of course, denied, since they weren't necessary. I started crying, twice. I was ordered to stop crying, since that could make me hyperventilate. Of course, that made me angry, since I didn't cry tooooo much while pregnant, I felt that at least I should be able to cry during delivery. But I needed to save that energy for pushing.
The TV show "The Family Guy" came on in the background and I asked Dan to turn it off. The doula, Hawa, also went to turn it off, and thus the Family Guy came back on. I really just didn't want the baby to be born with that show on! Luckily the TV stayed off the second time.
And so I just had to keep pushing. I was to hold each push for 10 seconds--and even getting there was hard. Dan encouraged me, he said I was getting closer, but I felt like he was lying. How did he know?
And then, after more pushing and after I swore a LOT, Esme was born. 6:55 pm. 6.5 lbs.
I got to pull her up right away, the nurse allowed me to do it right away. They cut the cord while I was wiggling her up my abdomen and I got to stare at my crying bundle wrapped in a receiving blanket and full of afterbirth. I told her that I loved her and that I've been waiting for her for so long, and for some reason started talking to her about her college account.
"college?" the nurse laughed.
She's the class of 2031, we calculated.
After a bit, they took her with Dan to be bathed and weighed and measured and listened to her lungs. I couldn't walk, so he took the photos for me of her first bath.
And then it was just all of the normal-post-delivery recovery. You feel so uncomfortable, there's a ton of blood, but you don't care beause your baby is with you. Esme was born the weekend of a massive snowstorm.
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