I kid you not, at midnight on Jan 16 (MLK Jr. Day), I woke up to a painful contraction. This was something I had experienced before, but I never had more than 4 in an hour. I noted the time, and tried to go back to sleep when the contraction was over. Well... about 8 minutes later, another one hit... and it continued like that for the next 3 hours. I didn't get any sleep, and was writing down the time each contraction started. Finally, I woke up Daniel (who was sleeping in another room due to his snoring keeping his pregnant wife awake), and told him what was going on. I knew we were nowhere near the needed 3-4 minutes apart for a trip to MBU (Mother Baby Unit), but I figured he should be awake if I was. We made sure the hospital bag was completely packed, and he decided to finally hang the shelves in the nursery. I laid down on the couch, and just waited. They never got closer than 8 minutes apart, but I called my neighbor once it wasn't 4 in the morning, and she took me to breakfast with her boys, and we walked around to see if things got moving.
Well, it didn't. As the day progressed, the contractions got farther apart, and by the time we went to dinner at Crystal's house, they were 30 minutes to an hour apart. I was at least able to enjoy dinner, a TV show, and a delicious banana split that evening. The contractions continued like that, but I was able to get some good sleep that night (which I was thankful for since I knew I'd be in full blown labor sometime that week).
The next day didn't look much different. The contractions were anywhere from 10 minutes to 2 hours apart, but I again went walking around the BX, and then was able to go home and take a 2 hour nap. Little did I know that was the last bit of good sleep I'd get for the foreseeable future.
I woke up and decided to start making dinner. As I was making dinner, I noticed the contractions were back to their usual 8 minutes apart. Then, Daniel came home from work, and the more I stood in the kitchen, the closer they got. Before I knew it, they were at 4 minutes apart, and it had been an hour. Man, it HURT! I was determined to finish dinner because I knew once we went to the hospital, I wouldn't be allowed to eat. (I'll later regret that decision, but I'm getting ahead of myself).
I called MBU, and they said to wait another hour, so Daniel and I ate some dinner (it took me a while because I felt like a chainsaw was going through my back), and then decided to try and go for a walk around the block. Well, we didn't make it very far. To be honest, we barely made it down the driveway. My neighbor asked why we weren't on our way to the hospital yet, so finally at 7pm on Jan 17th, we departed our home for the last time as just the two of us. Daniel called his work, and I braced myself for the bumpy ride to the hospital.
You never realize how bumpy a road is, until you're in full blown labor. Every bump was torture, so I was so glad when we finally pulled up to the hosptial. We had to walk in through the "Chief of the Day" door since normal working business hours were over. The poor guys sitting at the door kept asking me if I wanted a wheelchair, and since I was still in my stubborn, "I can do this on my own" phase of labor, I rudely said "no" multiple times.
The walk to MBU took quite a while, and once we got in there, the nurses took one look at the fact that I was walking, and mumbled, "Oh, we'll be sending them home if she can walk." (Daniel overheard them). Never mind the fact that I had to stop 3 times on the way to the triage room because the contractions were too intense (It was probably good that Daniel overheard them and I did not).
Two nurses checked me, and at first they said I was measuring 4cm, but after a few minutes they checked me again, and said I was between 4 & 5 cm. So, either they were wrong the first time, or I was progressing that quickly. Since I had mentioned that I wanted to try to go naturally, they sent me walking for two hours around the hospital grounds. Daniel wanted to grab an iced coffee from the McDonald's down the street, so I agreed that we could walk to the car, and go get one, and then walk around more when we got back.
Well.... it took about 45 minutes to walk to the car. I had to stop literally every 3 minutes to fight through a contraction... and I had to hold on to Daniel, or a wall, or a curb, or a car door. Daniel was getting frustrated because he thought I was being over dramatic. He discovered once we got in the car that was not the case.
Again, the pot holes in Guam were torture, and every bump had Daniel saying, "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry." He got his iced coffee and some burgers to hold him over for what was bound to be a long night since it was 9:45pm at that point. He's lucky I was in between contractions when he ordered because I was in full on scream mode every time one began. This is also when the uncontrollable shaking began. I remember sitting in the car just looking at my hands and legs shaking, and thinking, "Why can't I make them stop?"
We made it back to the hospital, and after another 30 minute walk from the car to the "Chief of the Day" door, I was hoping they'd ask if I wanted a wheelchair again. No such luck. I guess they remembered me, so I wasn't even offered one. We slowly walked down the hall toward the elevator, and then the nausea arrived. So not only am I shaking uncontrollably, I feel like I'm a second away from puking. Daniel nicely asked for a trash bag from one of the ER nurses walking by, so I made the rest of the journey with a black trash bag by my side.
I was put back in the triage room to be checked, and low and behold, I went from 4 to 7 cm in just under 2 hours! I also proceeded to vomit up all the dinner I made sure to eat before we left the house. The Dr. on call came in and said she was ready to admit me, and break my water. And then the question of the century was asked. "Are you sure you don't want an epidural?" The anesthesiologist would take about 20 minutes to get there, so the window of opportunity was closing since I was progressing fast. I looked at Daniel with what I'm sure was panic in my face. I mean... I had told myself throughout my entire life that I was tough enough to go through natural labor, told myself during the entire pregnancy that it was the best & healthiest thing for me and my baby, but in the midst of it... I wasn't so sure. I felt like a chainsaw was going through my back, I was shaking uncontrollably, and vomiting (all of which the nurses said were completely normal). Daniel, my hero, then turns to the Dr. and asks... "How much worse will the pain get once her water is broken?" She replied, "Exponentially." My decision was made... "GET ME THE EPIDURAL!"
The problem with waiting so long to get an epidural is this... you have to be completely still while they put the needle in your spine. Well, when you are contracting every 2 minutes, and it feels like a chainsaw is ripping through your back, it is quite difficult to remain still. While we were waiting, they were trying to get me to sign all these papers, too... I just kept thinking, "Can't this wait?!" Apparently, not. All I remember of the actual procedure was yelling "CONTRACTION, CONTRACTION!" over and over again while the anesthesiologist was working as quickly as possible to get me numb. Then, after the glorious numbness started taking over, he looked at me and asked... "Why did you wait so long?" I replied, "I thought I was tough." Daniel then stated, "You are tough. There is no way I could have handled what I just saw them put in your back."Again, my husband, my hero.
Then were able to relax and wait 2 hours before I needed to be checked again. It was ~11pm at that point. I say we were able relax, but I didn't. That glorious epidural only numbed half of my body, so despite my clicking the button for more juice, only my right side was numb... I still felt everything on the left. Honestly, I was ok with it, because I could handle half the pain.
Daniel ate his burgers, and the next 2 hours went on without any issues.
The Dr. came in again around 1:30am, and checked me and said that we were ready to get set up for pushing. What?! I couldn't believe I was already at 10cm. We got everything ready, and about 10 minutes later, we were ready to do some practice pushes to make sure I was pushing the correct way. Poor Daniel got my right leg (which was pretty much dead weight at that point), and the nice nurse had my right leg which I could still support. I pushed really well, so in just over 20 minutes, Lucas was brought into the world at 2:02 am January 18, 2012. We immediately started crying when the Dr said "It's a boy!" since we waited to find out the gender until the delivery.
He was placed on my chest while Daniel cut the umbilical cord, and we tried nursing immediately. Lucas nursed pretty well, and then they took him to do all the APGAR stuff. Unfortunately, he couldn't regulate his temperature, so they put in him a heated warmer with double the blankets, and after a couple hours I was able to nurse him again. When they came to check on him, he still wasn't warming up (hypothermic), so they had to take him back to the nursery. He then started breathing too quickly, so I wasn't even able to nurse him because they were afraid he would inhale the milk. I started pumping every 3 hours, and he ended up wearing what we lovingly called a buzz lightyear helmet with 100% oxygen. They even said that we may have needed to be medevaced if he didn't improve. Finally, his pediatrician, Dr. Moree took over from the original pediatrician, and he calmed us down quite a bit. Lucas slowly started improving and the next day, he was slowly taken off the oxygen and I was able to nurse him again. They kept us one more night to make sure everything continued to improve, and then we went home Friday afternoon!
Lucas' birth was definitely an adventure, and I am so glad he is in our lives.
