It wasn't a night for sleep. It was a night for daughter-having, I love yous, thank yous, and this-is-your-new-nurse-please-pay-careful-attention-while-she-talks-your-ear-off-while-another-nurse-makes-your-3-hour-old-cry-in-ways-you-always-said-you-would-never-let-her. Then that nurse will take your baby away and prick her skin and it will be a very long ten minutes. Because you haven't been that far from your daughter since she was just a tiny piece of you plus your husband that no one even knew existed yet.
January the ninth started at 4am. We gathered our bags and kissed our dogs goodby (yuck, furball) and left for the hospital in some pretty thick fog. As we made our way into the city limits, Texan said, "Remember this. (Dramatic hand flourish) January 9th, a cold, foggy morning." We will always remember that dark, hazy drive as we clung to the few hours of anticipatory sleep we had allowed ourselves.
As we entered the hospital, a desk clerk pointed to the labor and delivery corridor to the left and we walked through the wide double doors to a busy woman who was pleasantly plump and even more pleasantly friendly. It felt incredible to answer her question, "Here for an induction?" With a resounding "YES!" She took my weight and hid it from me for my own sanity, then told us to wait for the real secretary to return from tucking a c-section patient into bed. When she returned, she took us to room 17 where I was given a gown and told to undress completely except for the gown, which had a stain on the left breast. All I could think of was a Jim Gaffigan comedy routine where he pokes fun at the idea of giving birth in a gown someone died in yesterday. I even did my own rendition of the routine for Texan, who was unabashed. The room was totally set up for delivery including the little examination bed for the baby and receiving blankets and all the monitors for my contractions. It was so surreal, like being a kid and walking through the gates at Disney World for the first time. Are we really here? Is this going to be the best day of my life?
My first nurse was Jennifer. She looked to be about 18, and had the fastest and steadiest hands I could've hoped for from someone placing my IV for Pitocin and fluids to hydrate me and setting up mine and Scarlett's monitors. She was very friendly, and I was sad that we had come at the end of her 12-hour shift. By 7:30, my new nurse was Jena. She wore a silver-sequence headband that I assumed she had borrowed from one of her SIX children she told me she had. She assisted my doctor as he broke my water--which I expected to hurt for some reason--then made me very comfortable. Then we waited. It wasn't long before I had gone from 2cm to 4cm and it seemed the pitocin was doing its job. My contractions were noticeable but not uncomfortable in the least. In fact, it wasn't until noon that I was feeling the pain of my contractions. I asked nurse Jena for some pain relief and she called in the anesthesiologist to administer an epidural. I could've sworn I had told Jena I didn't want the epidural, but I guess not. So she gave me Staydol to take off the edge and told me if I changed my mind about the epidural to let her know. Well, it wasn't until 6pm that I found out I was still at 4cm and was in agony, that I decided to get the epidural. It took about 10 minutes of careful deliberation and coercing from Jena, who assured me that it wouldn't slow down my labor and actually, it would help me relax and that would make me dilate faster. Her words to me after I got it were, "I'd rather get a ride to Dallas than walk. If you know what I mean." I know. Why take the hard road when there's the modern convenience? My newfound joy that I found in painlessly contracting and playing cards with my dad and close friend was cut short when my doctor let me know that if I hadn't dilated to at least a 6pm by 9pm then he would do a c-section.
At that point my dad settled in for the long haul, and we all tried to be cheery about how a c-section only takes 35 minutes. "And you'll still get to hold her right away, Boo." Or "it won't be how you pictured but it will have the same end result," eventually had me calm enough to accept it. Then at 9:30 pm the contractions got intense and all at once quite painful. I called my new nurse, Charity, to tell her about the change. She said we would monitor them but we needed to not turn up the epidural at this point. That was fine, because contracting was exciting and not nearly as painful as it had been pre-epidural. When the doctor came in around 10 pm to check me, he announced that I was almost 8cm. There was much rejoicing.
My dad and Texan's mom helped me through my contractions for the next hour or so. My dad watched the monitor and told me when each contraction was at its peak so I could know when the pain was coming to an end, and Texan's mom rubbed my back through each contraction. This was Heaven because my back was covered in itchy tape from the epidural. Nurse charity promised to check me again around 11, and when she did, I was fully dilated and fully effaced, but the baby hadn't dropped. For this check, she had asked our parents to step into the curtained alcove of our room--an area with a couch and a tv for family visiting. So when they heard, "I'll prepare the delivery table," they were pretty scared that they were going to be stuck back there through the delivery. "Wait! Let us leave first!" Pretty funny moment.
When the parents had gone and the lights were turned to full-brightness, charity returned with her charge nurse who checked me and said, "The head has definitely dropped." Charity had been wrong, and I was glad. Because by 11:45, I was pushing. It was just me, Texan and Charity in the room and it felt so low-key. None of the sweaty screaming like in the movies. Just holding my breath for 10 counts and pushing with all my might. (Also, I threw up once. Never seen that in the movies). Then 15 minutes later, Scarlett was crowning and my doctor came in to deliver her. It was another 20 minutes of pushing before she arrived.
Pushing was the best thing I've ever done. It was the first time in 9 months that I was in control of my pregnancy. I wanted it to be over, so I made sure it was quick! The funniest part was that it took 35 minutes--the exact amount of time it would've taken for the c-section. The marker board in the room had said January 9, so in between contractions while I was resting to push again, I had Texan run and change the date.
The day leading up to her birth, and every day since can be categorized under the heading: Best Days of my Life.
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