I know everybody has been patiently waiting for what is sure to be my entertaining birth story and I only hope that despite my sleep deprivation and sore who ha that I can live up to your expectations.
So here we go.
Last Wednesday, July 15th, I had a doctor’s appointment in the morning. I went, thinking they would check me out down there... and then they didn’t.... So as I waited for the resident doctor to come back to tell me my strep B results I began to cry. I wanted to have this baby and I wanted her now (and at the very least I wanted to know if she was even making her way)... Upon his return the intern became slightly uncomfortable by the waterfalls coming from my eyes and got my OB to come up and do the check (the OB didn’t even want to check but b/c I played the emotional pregnant woman card he obliged)....
Delightfully surprised, my OB found that I was already 2-3 cm dilated and he swept away some icky stuff... I was so happy and then really scared. The OB said that it was highly unlikely that I would be attending my next appointment with him
So there I was at 10ish am excited and terrified, texting and making calls like it was my job. I went about my day, attributing my increasing crampiness to the humongous amounts of red raspberry leaf tea that I had been drinking, in the high hopes that it would make things move along....
My dearest old friend from back home was visiting with me and at 5 pm we headed over to #2’s for dinner. It was then that I realized that my cramps might be a bit something more... But again I shrugged it off. Labour pains were supposed to hurt, right?
Thank goodness mama bear was on her way.
At 11 pm that night I began to time the frequency of the cramps and realized that low and behold I was indeed experiencing them regularly. I called my midwife and was told to go to sleep. I tried. The cramps got worse.
Despite taking a gravol the pains kept me awake and at 1 am, I called #2. I was in labour and it freaking hurt....
With both mama bear and #2 looking after me I hung out in my tub for a few hours and watched the Sex in the City movie twice before calling the midwife again at 5 am with an update on my contractions (this is when I started to question if it really was possible for them to get worse). The midwife told me it was time to head to the hospital.
Arriving at the hospital I was 5 cm.... this lasted forever! I was there for what seems like forever when they checked me again only to tell me I was only 5.5 cm. I was pissed! Four hours and only half a cm, seriously?
So I moved positions, and #2 went out for some food, while the midwife rubbed my legs. The OB came in and checked me and I was between 6 and 7. That’s when hell officially began. I really thought I had been in pain before, but no....
They broke my water and I cried like a little baby. The fluid gushing out of my body onto my bed made me feel so dirty. I continued to cry until #2 was called to come back to the hospital and to get my mom there as well.
I think this is where things got a little crazy. Within a very short period of time I lost all of my inhibitions, dignity and will power. I no longer cared if I pooped on the bed in front of everyone or who saw my who ha. I no longer wanted to be natural. I wanted drugs and strong ones!
Trying the gas I quickly had an anxiety attack and found myself panting like a dog on the floor. I didn’t like the feeling on my face and I swear I was going to die from the pain. I begged for the epidural, but because of my stupid ability to be over prepared everyone reminded me that in my birth plan I said I didn’t want it. I didn’t care. I had changed my mind... However, they convinced me to try a narcotic, one that starts with an F. I was told it would only last a half hour and would have no effect on the baby. It might even let me get some ZZZZZ’s.
WRONG AGAIN! The narcotic made me dizzy and with my bare ass hanging out as I bent over the bed doggy style in pain I began to fall over, but yet couldn’t move... OOOOO and did I mention that hours before this I had up chucked my cookies into a bed pan (which are totally poorly designed, as it splashed and went everywhere, including on my pillow I brought in from home that I continued to use for several days).....
I’m not sure if this is the point where I decided that clothes would no longer due, but at some point I began ripping off my Johnny shirt. Again, I no longer had my dignity. I felt like Freddy Kruger was trying to escape from my stomach, while Jason hacked at my back.
When it came time to push I was so excited. My midwife told me that in order for the baby to come out my bowels would need to be cleared, so I pushed with all my might for 1.5 hours trying to void my bowels of anything in there. That was my goal – poop in front of everyone.....
I continuously cried and begged every person that came in the room to “help me.” No one did. They pretty much ignored my requests for assistance and each time I said something wasn’t right I was reassured that it was, that this indeed was labour... So my question is, why the hell do people do this twice or more? And drug free? Agh!
So I was pretty much done for. It was the afternoon, I had been in labour for an eternity and was more tired than when I use to party for days on end.
This is when I found out that indeed a body coming out of ones vagina isn’t always a natural process and that sometimes things really don’t fit. I was so far gone and in so much pain that I no longer cared that I planned an unassisted delivery. I wanted, no I needed her out.
Then out came the scissors and the doctor snipped away enough room to hook the vaccum up and oooops, first try vaccum fell off and my bird sucked her back in...
But if at first you don’t succeed – and then boom baby was there. HOLY CRAP! A human being just came out of my body! WOW.
The surreal feeling still hasn’t worn off. We now have our little Isabella Marie Crosby, born at 2:25 pm on July 16th, 7 lbs and 19 inches long
It is now nearly two weeks since she arrived and the 13 days have blended into what only feels like a few. Exhaustion has taken on a whole new meaning, but I no longer mind it. It is part of the new role and I am loving every minute of it.
