Dr. Ahmad had offered up a scheduled induction on Friday, October 14 and with Jon working on the other side of the state and work becoming more and more of a challenge in the final days, it was a perfect recipe for our family.
So, we were set.
We were to be at the hospital at 5 a.m. on Friday. We would get admitted and set up, see the doctor on call and that doctor would confer with Dr. Ahmad to begin the induction.
I took a nap during the day on Thursday in anticipation of a night of light sleeping. I was going to be waking up at 4 a.m. to get out the door by 4:30 for our 5 a.m. appointment. Good thing I did, too. I managed to accidentally fall asleep for an hour during the night Thursday. But again, that was an accident. My mind was racing. With what, I couldn’t even tell you now. Wondering what the pain would be like, thinking perhaps I’d be the miracle pregnant gal who ends up thinking it’s no big thing and delivers quickly, easily and with no pain.
So, anyway, I got up at 3:30 a.m., well got out of bed at least. I seriously had tried every trick in my repertoire to sleep…flip head to the feet end of the bed; sleep on the couch; watch TV; meditate; deep breathing exercises. It didn’t matter. My mind would not be silenced. So, I got up and did my hair and makeup (why not?). I poured myself a bowl of cereal and ate my Frosted Mini Wheats. I waited until it was time to wake Jon up.
And then, as I was getting ready to wake Jon up at the designated time (with ten minutes to go before walking out the door) I get a call from a local number I don’t recognize. And it’s 4:18 a.m. I’m leaving for the hospital in 12 minutes. It’s the hospital. They don’t have a bed/nurse for me, so can I wait and come in at 7 a.m. instead of 5 a.m.? After I ask why the two hours is going to make a difference, and the nurse patiently and kindly explains to me the situation, I go in and wake Jon up and tell him he can sleep for another couple hours. I, however, do not. I sit there wide-eyed, now wondering how my day will go. This feels like a bad way to get things rolling.
I had asked Jon if he planned on showering before we left. No, he assured me. He would be getting up and going. I asked if he had picked out the outfit he was going to wear to meet his daughter – no, why would he, he wondered. I gave up. So, I wake him up at 10 after 6 and we have 20 minutes before we need to be out the door. As he’s picking out what to wear he says “I don’t have time to take a shower, do I?”
Yes, I tell him, go for it, but hurry.
And he does.
He hastily chooses a yellow polo short and jeans for the day with a zip up hoodie.
I have the car packed. I have a bag of snacks, I have magazines and games to entertain us. I have clothes packed for myself, for the baby. I’m ready to go.
The car seat is in the car.
I’m in the car.
Jon’s in the car.
It’s pouring rain.
We drive to the hospital.
I’m apprehensive but relaxed; engaged but disconnected, unsure of what’s to come.
We go to admitting and we head up to the antepartum area of the hospital, where they do the inductions. It’s 7:30 a.m. by the time we get into our room.
The nurse, Kay, comes in to tell us that Dr. Ahmad was at the hospital at 7 waiting for us – well, not my fault that we weren’t there.
So, the doctor on call is to do an evaluation and then call Dr. Ahmad and determine what they’re going to do to begin the induction.
Kay tells me if they go with Cervadil, it’ll be 12 hours and then they’ll see what happens. If they go with the little tablet that I forget the name of, they’ll check me in four hours and see what’s happening.
We do paperwork, we sign papers, we talk to some random doctor who I never see again. We see Dr. Pyatt who is great. I get checked by the nurse and by Dr. Pyatt.
The nurse gives me this diagnosis:
You’re a fingertip dialated and 50% effaced, -3 station.
Ok, no big deal. But, that’s a long way to go to get to 10 cm, 100% effaced, +3 station.
So, after hours and hours (seriously, four hours) of waiting (which oddly went by far faster than one would imagine) Dr. Pyatt comes in and places the tablet…down there (can’t bring myself to be any more descriptive than that and I just don’t think it’s necessary).
So, now it’s a waiting game.
Kay has told us it will be an hour before anything happens. I’m hooked to a monitor that is spitting out lines showing contractions and the baby’s heart rate. Which is fine, except that I have to pee every 10 minutes (I wish I were kidding). Because the tablet is most effective if you don’t pee for an hour afterward, I had begun practicing holding my pee as long as possible the few hours before the tablet was placed…so I got to the hour mark and had not peed. It was a huge relief both to hold it that long and to finally pee after that long.
In the meantime, my brother randomly stopped by the hospital. Which was lovely, but at the same time I was annoyed because nothing was happening, because we’d had such a late start we were staring down an after-midnight delivery and I just was waiting and having Trevor there was just – I don’t know – I wasn’t ‘there’ in my head. So, he hung out for a minute or hour or something…and then he and Jon left after my Mom arrived around noon or so.
My Aunt Jill made an appearance with snacks and drinks, which was great, too.
The contractions were showing up on the monitor now, but I wasn’t feeling much.
After the four hours of the tablet working its magic had come and gone, I was evaluated by the nurse. She reported I was now dialated to about 3 1/2, 4 and she’d guess 70-80% effaced, but to stay on the safe side would say 50% and let the doctor say for sure.
So, I get out of bed and do three laps around the floor.
I come back and Dr. Ahmad is there to check in on me. He tells me that this exam will be the worst one of the day. He checks me, reports me to be 4 cm dialated and 80% effaced. Sweet.
And then, it starts.
Nurse Kay reports that the reason that the exam would be the worst of the day is because Dr. Ahmad stripped my membranes (would’ve been nice to know I suppose). And all of a sudden, the irregular contractions are regular and they are coming faster and faster.
Kay has hung a bag of pitocin, they are going to move me over to labor and delivery, and I’ll get the epidural as soon as I get over there. They don’t want the epidural now because I need to be able to walk.
We wait for a bed.
Two and a half hours later, the contractions raging, having kicked my Mom out of the room, spent some serious time on the toilet just holding on to the rails in the bathroom, asking for the TV to be turned off so it’s at least a little quiet. I’m having Jon push as hard as he can in one spot on my back and I’m pushing against it. It’s gotten bad. I’m grinning and bearing it, but I’m now at the point where it’s not fun or funny anymore. Not much to laugh about.
When Dr. Ahmad had come in earlier, he said he was upset about the fact that we sat in a room for four hours with nothing happening. When he heard that I’d waited two + hours to get a room, he was even more frustrated with the situation.
Kay asks Dr. Ahmad if I can have Stadol to relieve some of the pain. I didn’t want pain. I wanted this epidural an hour and a half ago…and now, well, I’m at 7 cm and just now getting the epidural and moving rooms…after getting the Stadol. That took the edge right off and the epidural numbed everything.
For the record, GO WITH THE EPIDURAL. Why you wouldn’t is beyond me. It hurts and why you voluntarily put yourself in that situation I don’t know. Take the epidural. Don’t be a hero…because those of us who had the epidural, we’re wondering what you crazy women going au naturel are trying to prove.
Anyway, that’s my opinion on THAT matter.
To make a long(ish) story shorter, here’s what happened in bullet format:
– Random doctor comes in to put the fetal monitors on the baby’s head. He misses and tries multiple times. He’s the intern or resident and isn’t supremely confident, which I don’t like. But, whatever.
– Shift change has happened, so I went from Kay to some other nurse who I saw for like 20 minutes to Sue, who was with me during delivery.
– My Mom is out of the room. It’s just Jon and I and I’m glad that’s how it ended up. It’s how I was most comfortable, come to find out.
– Jon and I turn out the lights and rest a bit in the room. The epidural is a godsend and I’m tired. I didn’t sleep the night before and who knows how long it’s going to be before this baby arrives.
– Dr. Ahmad comes in and says we’re going to try pushing (what?!). I was just sleeping…
…and, there’s a crying baby in my living room now demanding my attention, so this story will be continued…