(Click here to check out part 1)
As crazy as it may sound all I kept thinking about was not being able to eat the entire day. I know you must be thinking, “This chick is a greedy beeyotch! How could she be thinking about food at a time like this?!”
The thought of having ice chips for lunch and dinner made me wanna hash out a plan to make a pit stop at our favorite restaurant. But, I snapped out of my selfish daze and headed straight to the hospital.
Once we arrived, they already had all my paper work on file. By this time I wasn’t having any contractions, but I did feel some pressure in my uterus. We waited for a few minutes while they got our room ready. My hubby and I sat patiently in the waiting area while I prayed silently for a nice nursing staff. I know, I know. I should have been praying for a healthy and speedy delivery, but that’s a given. In my opinion, having a great staff would make labor so much easier. The last thing I needed was someone in bitch mode because Lawd knows, I wouldn’t want to welcome my baby in the midst of a bitchfest.
As it turned out, the Lord was on our side. Everyone was super nice. We all chatted like we were besties, which helped to put me at ease. They smiled and walked us through the process. They also raved about my labor and delivery gowns.
We had initially arrived at the hospital around 1PM. By the time I was dressed and ready it was around 2PM. From that point things started to happen quickly. The nurses asked me a bunch of routine question, put in my IV, and hooked me up to the fetal monitor. I wasn’t having strong contractions yet. So, I was able to get my social media groove on.
I updated Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. I also attempted to speak with family and friends. But the hospital had a weak signal. So, my hubby was able to leave the room periodically to reach out to our peeps and let them know how things were progressing. In addition to being my husband and doula, he also served as my cameraman. It’s a gig he’s never been too crazy about. But, he didn’t mind it so much on this special day.
He whipped out the cameras and snapped away. He also captured some precious moments with the camcorder too.
By 2:30 in the afternoon there was still irregular contractions. The nurse then said that she wanted to put me on Pitocin to get them going consistently. The doctor hadn’t arrived yet. But, he had been checking my status from his office while seeing patients.
It took a couple of attempts and two nurses to finally locate my tiny veins. The Pitocin started dripping away while the other fluid kept me hydrated. I then looked up at the machine and saw the number 12.
“You’re starting me off at 12? Why not one?” I asked.
“We go by multiples of 12, with 12 being the lowest,” she responded.
For second there I thought they were really trying to speed up this labor and delivery a little too fast. After about a half hour I felt nothing. The nurse the increased the dosage to 24, and then raised it to 36 another half hour later.
In a matter of an hour and a half, my contractions went from zero to 180. The pain became so unbearable. The OB arrived and checked to see if I dilated any more. As luck would have, I was still at four centimeters.
The pain became stronger. I wanted to see if I could make it without the epidural. But, who was I kidding? I already got Pitocin running through me. The chance of this being a natural birth was nil. The inner bitch in me wanted to scream, “Where the eff is the anesthesiologist?”
Stacey-Ann,
Funny labor story> with our first son I was totally brainwashed by the Lamaze instructor ( is Lamaze still around ?) We were convinced that under no circumstances, or at least as a very last resort, should a woman get an epidural, because we were told it could potentially affect the baby. Well, the contractions are coming fast and furious, the doctor pokes his head in the delivery room and asks my wife if she is ready for an epidural … And I respond, “no, not yet. ,” of course after that it was too late and the pushing began. It’s 27 years later, and I guess I will never live that down.
Actually, my wife was never able to get an epidural. Our middle son was born by Cesarean, and with our last son, my wife was telling the nurses she wanted the epidural, they told her repeatedly that it was too early. When finally they agreed to give it to her, they sent me out of the room, I took two steps down the hallway, the nurse comes running back to get me and says, “oops! It’s too late for the epidural, the baby is coming.”