My Labor Day (Part 2)
After about an hour in triage, I am moved upstairs and I am READY for that epidural. I get the epidural around 7:15 a.m., my blood pressure immediately drops and I almost pass out, they shoot something (I don’t know what, I was pretty out of it) into my IV and my blood pressure comes back up.
At this point though I didn’t care. Blood pressure up, blood pressure down, who cares? I LOVE this friggin’ epidural! After over twenty-four hours of contractions I feel no pain. Epidurals ROCK!
So it’s 7:30ish, I have an epidural, we’ve called our families, texted, Twittered, and Facebooked our friends, I’ve cancelled my coffee/lunch/dinner plans, so we settle in to wait.
And we wait.
And we wait.
Pretty quickly I get to 5 cm, but then I just sit there for several hours.
Then I jump to 8.
And I sit there for quite awhile.
Through all of this, I’ve been napping on and off, dictating Facebook and Twitter updates to Ricky—you know, your usual labor behavior.
But then I start feeling pain. Now I’ve always heard those stories from women who were dead from the waist down with their epidural, couldn’t feel a thing, and didn’t even know if they were pushing.
Those women always sounded like they were complaining, but that sounded like heaven to me. No pain whatsoever? I’ll take it.
But that was not the case for me. I’m hurting and I don’t like it! The anesthesiologist is called, the epidural is upped. Still feeling some pain. Not all over, but every time I have a contraction there is one specific spot where I feel pain.
(In order to not embarrass anyone, I won’t say the actual name of that spot. Let’s just call it my Georgia O’Keefe, shall we? Not a good spot for the epidural to suddenly not work.)
So now I’m hurting and I’m still stuck at 8. The doctor starts using the C word and puts a time limit on how much longer she’ll let me go.
And then, suddenly, with no real warning I’m at a 10 and we start pushing.
Through all of this Ricky has been right by my side. He has fed me ice chips, he’s put wet cloths on my forehead, he has Twittered and Facebooked for me. He has been great.
But now he starts to get on my nerves. For some reason once I start pushing I no longer want him to touch my arm.
And he keeps touching my arm.
I nicely ask him to not touch my arm.
He says sorry.
I push and what does he do?
He touches my arm!
What an asshole, right?? 🙂
This goes on throughout the whole pushing process. Ricky trying to be there for me by rubbing my arm, me telling him to leave my arm alone, him apologizing and then touching my arm AGAIN!
(As I re-read that I realize how ridiculous it sounds, but at the time it was truly driving me CRAZY!)
So I’m pushing, Ricky is alternating between touching my arm and apologizing and then it happens! I won’t give the gory details, but we started pushing at 5:30PM (keeping in mind that the epidural is no longer working in a pretty pivotal spot!) and at 6:51PM on June 11 Little Ricky made his way into the world.
So it took almost 37 hours from the first contraction to the last, an epidural that did not do all it promised, a nurse who didn’t laugh at my jokes and a lot of hard work, but in the end it was all worth it.
Because as soon as I laid eyes on Little Ricky I was in love.
(Part 1) | Part 2