At 4am Monday, September 20, I woke up with mild period cramps, but after a quick pee, I was back to sleep. At 5am, I woke again and they were more painful. I remember thinking, could this be it? Are these cramps contractions? I had no idea what they would feel like so I wasn't sure. I told my DH, and he jumped up to grab a notepad and pen to track them. Twenty minutes later, I felt a little trickle like I peed myself just a little. "Whoa", I remember thinking, "Is that my water breaking?" I was kind of hoping for something a little more dramatic, like in the movies.
We immediately called my doctor to report a possible 'membrane rupture'. He said it sounded like it and told us to come into the clinic when they open at 8am so they could check me. Damn, it was only 6am. Could I really wait that long? Well, the cramps weren't that bad so I tried to go back to sleep, but I was too excited. I was finally going to meet this little soccer player! I decided to have a bath to ease the cramps. They seemed to be getting worse, but still bearable - who knows, maybe I'm bad ass and have a really high pain tolerance...
Wrong! They had gotten worse. By 7:30am they were full blown cramps and I was starting to wince through them. When we arrived to the doctor's office at 8am, I was now bracing myself for each contractions (which no longer even remotely resembled period cramps). All I could think about was how much worse they were going to get. I couldn't believe it, when they checked me, I was only 1cm dilated. Sweet Lord, what would 2cm feel like?! Before they sent me back home to wait it out, they put some belts on me and sat me in a room to monitor the baby's heartbeat and my contractions. It was fun listening to the heartbeat (and helped me focus away from the pain), and my DH and I enjoyed listening for about 20 minutes.
Then nurse came in to check the readout of belt devices, and said there was some variability in the baby's heart rate and that we should go to the hospital now. This surprised and worried us a little because we knew I wasn't dilated enough for that, but they assured us it was just a precaution. By the time we checked in to the hospital and went into one of the monitoring rooms, it was 10am, and I was at 4cm and in a crap load of pain (so much for avoiding the epidural). Well, I ordered that epidural right then and there, so the anesthesiologist would be waiting for me in the delivery room when I got to there. Unfortunately, my doc didn't tell my nurse that I'd asked for one (assuming I would have filled her in myself) and when I asked, "where the hell is that bitch (kidding)" at 5cm (an hour later), she was only just on her way.
During the wait for the epidural, my DH and I put into practice all the techniques we learned from our birthing class (leaning over him, swaying side to side, etc). He also brought me some ice chips and we turned on the ipod mix of soothing music I had made a few days earlier. I read somewhere it was supposed to reduce pain up to 20% - just by relaxing you.Finally! The epidural...and after about four attempts to thread it through my spine (I couldn't help it, the needle pricking my spine kept making me jump), it took effect. Then my parents arrived, and we all watched the contraction readout, which looked like an earthquake Richter scale. It was 2pm, and I was 7cm and pain free. By 4pm, I was up to almost 9cm, and they had readied the newborn cart and everything. Even the little blue hat was sitting out and ready to be adorned.
When I was checked an hour later, I hadn't progressed and baby was posterior, which means face-up (they're supposed to be face down). So we waited some more and I changed positions, hoping for gravity to move him into the correct position. I kept thinking I would be pushing at any minute and would hold my son in mere minutes! But by 6pm, there was still no progress and now I had a fever and baby's heart rate was climbing. The doctor made the call to do an emergency c-section. I was devastated. I had wanted to bond immediately with him doing skin-to-skin and nursing and now I couldn't.
I guess I would have to suck it up because baby's health was everything. I was wheeled in the ER and a tarp was thrown up in front of me. My DH scrubbed up and sat behind me, holding my hand. I had to do this awake because the epidural was already in. It was freezing in the room and the added drugs were making me shake and convulse like an insane person. I was told it would take only minutes to be cut open and the baby to be pulled out and almost an hour to stitch me back up. It was the most uncomfortable experience of my life, being pulled and man-handled and pressed on, knowing my guts were hanging out, even if I didn't feel the pain. But when they got him, when I heard his little tiger cry, it was all worth it. It was such a teensy tiny, little cry and it was fast and hard. The sound made me burst into tears and I instantly wanted to hold him, but of course, I couldn't. Instead, my DH got to hold him for a few minutes before they whisked him away, enough for us to see his beautiful face and FULL head of hair. Because of my fever, he had to spend two whole days in the NICU laying alone in the corner and getting an IV under a warming light while I recovered upstairs in the maternity ward.
It was heartbreaking not to have him with me for those two days, but I counted my blessings because he was a healthy, beautiful baby boy; seven pounds, twelve ounces. We named him Austin.
