I really wanted to have a natural birth but it just didn't happen that way. Julia was anticipated to be at 8 pounds, way too big for me and the Dr. was eager to get her outta me. And of course I was in complete agreement and just as eager! I was definitely tired of being grossly huge, severely bloated all over and not looking forward to having to push out an 8 pound baby. So it was decided that I would be induced at 39 weeks.
There was a small part of me that wistfully wished I could've experienced the "Oh, honey, it's time!" as water gushed out of me at probably the worst time and place while I grunted and groaned in pain and Carl frantically searched for the always no where to be found hospital bag. But I think I was happier this way, knowing what was coming and when to expect it even though I was probably more nervous because of it. My nerves were probably further elevated when, after I was finally admitted, the nurse stabbed me all wrong with my first ever IV. I felt my hand gush with warm blood and heard the once chatty nurse quietly whisper "Oh damn". When I finally had the courage to turn and look, I saw my blood all over her and floor and thought "Well this is starting off well".
Other than the occasional poke and prod from random doctors and the need to go to the bathroom every half hour while dragging everything you're attached to with you, the first few hours were uneventful and sort of pleasant. I laid there and watched a lot of TV. A lot of TV. And I went through the same series of questions with each new round of doctors, nurses, and assistants; Is this your first? Do you know what you're having? Did you pick a name? Do you have any allergies? Do you mind if I check you even though I've already got my fingers up you before you get a chance to say no?
Unfortunately, the several hours of waiting meant that the drugs they were giving me was not working and they eventually upped their game and gave me the big P - Pitocin. Now, I've watched a plenty of "A Baby Story" and "Birth Day" to know that Pitocin was it. It was IT and baby was a comin' soon and that meant it was time to give me the good stuff - the epidural. I also knew, from watching all my reality tv child birthing shows, that no matter what the situation, 90% of the moms-to-be ALWAYS end up wanting the epidural. So when they came around asking if I was ready, I was all for it - granted, I wasn't really feeling much labor pains yet but that was just what I was aiming for.
Getting the epidural was almost as tough as having a c-section. The hardest part was having to bend over and hold still - the anesthesiologist kept telling me I had to bend over further which made it difficult to breathe and hard to do in the first place, I mean, hello? Did he not see the huge belly I was sportin'? But once that epidural kicked in, I could not feel a thing. I think they're suppose to provide you just enough to take the edge off but I seriously could not feel anything chest down. So when they asked me to move my legs, all I could do was giggle and think "Sure, I'll give that a try" and would mentally will my legs to move which never seemed to work. The nurses and the pink graph paper spitting out beside my head told me I was having contractions but I didn't feel a thing...until...until the epidural began wearing off on the right side of my body. This was the only point during the experience that I did the typical "I'm having this baby and I hate you" behavior by grabbing Carl by the back of his head and "strongly urging" him to get the doctors to give me more of the good stuff.
They gave me more of the good stuff and I was happy. When they told me the push, I pushed as hard as I could mentally will myself to. I was pretty sure I was about to burst a vein and pushed for an hour when the Dr. finally decided it was time to have a c-section. I remember asking if there was anything else I could do - I mean, I did take Lamaze class!! Couldn't I squat, hold onto a handle bar, get on all fours....anything?! But, at the moment, Julia was literally stuck and a c-section was a necessity!
I couldn't believe that I was getting cut! I don't know if I was disappointed, but I did know that I wasn't happy about having to be cut open! And little did I know about how bad recovery was going to be after! But truly, I felt nothing, not a thing, not even when the nurse said to me "Ok, you may feel a big whoosh, like a bus coming out of you" when they were pulling Julia out. I FELT NOTHING and it was GREAT!
Everything happened just like they did on all those damn baby shows. They pulled her out, I watched as they cleaned her off, cut her cord, measured and weighed her, and then wrapped her in a blanket. JUST LIKE ON TV! I really felt I was watching one of those shows until they brought her over for her first kiss from Mommy and I felt her warm skin against my cheek....whoa...that baby is actually mine, I thought!
What they don't show on TV is them sending dad out of the room with the baby while mom lies there for 10-15 minutes listening to the doctors and nurses gossip as they sew you back up. That glorious moment of turning into a mom is quickly over as you lay there like a slab of meat and quietly listen to the details of your nurse's inability to find a man and your doctor's need to find the right school for their kid. Once in a while they acknowledge your presence as they continue to sew away until finally, they give you a little pat on the hand and tell you you're ready to go.
Mommyhood still doesn't start right away - you shake uncontrollably for god knows how long and the only thing you want is something to drink (you can't drink anything from the moment your admitted and hooked to that IV). And afterward, you become focused on hitting the button for the automatic release of morphine or whatever pain medication they give you to numb away the horrible feeling of, well, having your gut sliced opened.
A lot less exciting than "A Baby Story" but in the end, if you asked me if it was worth it, of course it was! Though not the natural birth I wanted, it ultimately didn't matter. Had this been hundreds of years ago, I and/or Julia probably would not have made it. Thank goodness for the advancement of medicine so that now, I have a little one to tell me "no" about 500 times a day, puts herself in "time out" when she knows she's done something wrong about 2-3x a day and when it's over, comes to me and gives free kisses and hugs. That's what it's all about....
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