You want a birth story. I'll give you a birth story. I'll birth it so hard... whatever. Whatever that means.
It was a dark and stormy night...
No, for reals. It was raining and doing crazy stuff all night, so Hubster was freaked. He'd been asking me for a few days when I was planning on going into labor - like I could tell him. I knew what he meant; when I had Jminator, I woke up that morning and knew I was going to have a baby. He was looking for that kind of reassurance. Unfortunately, I had so many false starts on this one, I had no idea what I was doing. I'd walk; I'd get contractions. I'd sit; they'd stop. Finally, FINALLY they were regular. They were 10 minutes apart, but not awful. I began to feel like a stud. Totally manageable, I thought. This is awesome. I was changing positions, doing my Miles circuit, and keeping an eye on my back pain. I was rockin' it, fo reals.
At least, for the first half of the day.
Hubs gets home. We try to nap. We ate like crazy (ok, I ate like crazy; everyone else just stared at their pizza. I was just shy of huffing the empty box) I'm wandering around my house, doing dishes and doing laundry. Doing laundry. At 9:30pm, I am searching for socks and underwear under the sofa. Finally (again) they're consistent enough to head to the hospital. Of course, Hubster had the entire house packed into the back of the car. Pillows, the go-bag, food, a pony, blankets (it's July) and has lined the passenger seat in those poopy pads you give to old people - just in case my water breaks on the way there. To be fair, it's about an hour and a half to the hospital, and this man could map out the Final conquest of Saigon if he needed to, so I'll give him some lee-way. And also, he stopped at Sonic so I could get something yummy to drink.
We he starts driving. I swear to you: in the name of all things holy and sacred, my husband broke the sound barrier twice heading there. Also, when I'm in labor, I feel like he's driving the Autobahn. Reality stated otherwise: he was actually going much slower than the posted speed limits. Every time I'd grip the side bar with white knuckles and beg him to slow down, he willingly complied. I was convinced I saw a warp-jump. In reality, I'm pretty sure it was a pot hole.
We get there, and immediately the contractions slow down. NO! I kept thinking. I. Want. My. Baby, Dammit!! But fortunately, it was a slow night for mommas. They check me, and I'm at a 4-5, so I get to walk around a vacant hospital at 11pm. Nothing creepy about that. We walk, and I'm a 5. We walk again, and where I once was the badass of the maternity ward, I'm starting to freak the hell out. My back hurts. Bad. BAD. Every time I have a contraction, it's starting to feel like my spine is fusing shut. My normal low hum of a relaxation technique has become a choice word (starts with an F. Rhymes with "muck me") because I can't move.
I still hate needles. I still don't want an epidural. So I ask what the buffet had as far as IV drugs? Exactly dick. They had one that "sorta" (the medical term of the evening) worked for about an hour. That's it. The pain would come back and bring its friends and a hangover. Pass.
Finally. FINALLY we figure out what was going on. My water was so low, the baby's head couldn't descend; but the contractions were strong enough that they could have shot that pooper across the room had the water bag not been there. My poor midwife looks at me and says, "oh my god." and calls for the nurses to "come see." I'm curious; Hubster is laughing so hard he can barely stand up.
My ladyparts were actually blowing a bubble.
They set this thing up, to catch the water. They are suiting up in plastic. I look at my midwife and ask her if this was like a Gallagher episode, and she politely said, "Yeah, pretty much. You've got enough pressure behind this puppy, I'll be lucky to catch the baby." Geezus... all right then.
The strongest contraction in the History of the World comes... It made almost 3 feet of rupture. Hubs is still regretting not getting a picture. To be honest, so am I. Baby starts descending pretty quickly, but gets stuck in my pelvis. Fun part: he's sunnyside up. So, I'm over here saying "I can't do this. I can't do this." blah, blah, whinypants... Midwife again looks at me like, uhh... yeah you can. And you will. She was polite and understanding. Hubster looks at me and says, "Babe, I'm staring at his head."
So, I push. It felt like forever, but I know it wasn't. Another nurse comes in to ask Midwife about another patient who was getting a C-section.
"C-section?" I ask, hopefully. Oh, no... Not me, they exclaim.
"Damn" I said. "I was getting all excited about being numb from the waist down."
The strongest contraction in the History of the World comes. Anndd, yeah, he popped out. I'm crying like a baby; my husband is crying like a middle-aged woman; baby is fine. Yay! Except now I have to push the stupid placenta out, and at this point, to be totally honest, if one more person says, "push" I'm would use the last bit of strength I had for a sucker punch. Midwife basically tells me if I can't push it out, she will go in and get it. Muuuuuck me. Fine.
Turns out, the placenta is almost the same weight as the baby. Not kidding. Midwife again calls in other nurses to "come and see the giant placenta."
I instantly get the "birth high." I've never gotten it from actually having the baby, but after everything comes out.... ohhhh yeah...
Midwife checks me out. Two stiches. So she gets this giant syringe full of lidocaine. I look her dead in the eyes; NOW you give me lidocaine? Where was that crap an hour ago when I was blowing a giant bubble?
They box us up; they clean me up. We pack up, and move into a Recovery Room. We've both been
Often times, I seem like a huge proponent for natural childbirth. I am: for my own natural childbirth. I seriously could care less about yours. I get why people have epidurals. I understand why some want a planned C-section. I really, really don't care how you had your children. What I am a proponent for is that you don't feel bullied into doing something that you didn't want to do. It's your birth; having a baby is supposed to be a dream come true.
Sometimes that dream just needs a little lidocaine.