Part 2 – At the hospital, October 29 (The Finale)

9:10 am – Soon enough (well, nothing would have been soon enough), we were at the hospital and made our way to triage. They made me fill out some paperwork while I draped myself over the counter during contractions. Then I had to sit in the waiting room.  Luckily they recognized that I was in pain and got me in pretty quickly. The nurse gave me a gown to put on, a girdle for the fetal monitors and a cup to pee in. I went to the bathroom to try and pee between contractions and found that I was bleeding. A lot. I freaked out at the sight of blood. I thought the blood was supposed to come later. Trish and the nurse assured me that I was ok and it was probably just my cervix opening up. They hooked me up to the fetal monitor – the contractions were 3 minutes apart and the baby’s heartbeat looked strong. The nurse asked if I wanted an epidural. This was the one point where I really thought about it. The pain was so intense and I couldn’t really imagine making it though without it. But then I thought about the actual procedure and getting the needle stuck in my back and I decided to just stick with what I knew and try to keep working through the contractions.  This nurse was great – she didn’t pressure me and was very helpful and reassuring during the contractions.

A resident (let’s call her doctor #1 for simplicity) arrived to examine me. I had trouble lying down for the exam because of my back pain, so she promised to be quick. I was 5 centimeters dilated and disappointed. 8 hours of pain and only 2 centimeters to show for it. Trish said that the first 5 centimeters were the tough ones and the next 5 go fast. I held on to that thought and it got me through the next couple hours.

10:15 am – They got me into a delivery room and tried to get me hooked up to all kinds of monitors. I spoke to my doctor about not having to be hooked up to an IV and fetal monitors during labor if the baby was doing ok. But, my doctor was not here since it was Sunday – I was dealing with doctor #1 who seemed to be reading off a checklist of things she was supposed to do and did not have the authority to deviate from this checklist. She had to check with the attending (doctor #2) to see if I could forgo the IV and use intermittent monitoring. While they were deciding, I agreed to let the nurse put the IV hook-up in my hand because they said I needed to have the line in case of an emergency and they couldn’t find my file so they needed to do an HIV test on me before I could breastfeed my baby (some New York law) and they’d take this blood from the same place. Looking back, this was the most intense part of my labor. I was sitting in a rocking chair, hooked up to the fetal monitor, with nurses trying to put in an IV. I say trying. It took 3 nurses and 4 tries to insert the damn thing. My arms were so bruised that I could hardly hold Spencer the first few days. But I guess watching them stuggle was at least a bit of a distraction.

A long time passed and I still had no answer from doctors #1 and #2 about my wishes to be on the monitor intermittently and forgo the IV.  My body couldn’t wait for an answer. I had to use the bathroom – TMI, but I thought I was going to poop my pants during the contractions. It felt SO good to sit on the toilet. The contractions were more manageable in that position for some reason. I stayed in there a bit, then figured I’d better head back out before anyone worried. We finally had word from doctor #2 – she said I could stay off the monitor for 20 minutes then had to get back on it for 20 minutes. This was much more conservative than I hoped – I didn’t want to labor hooked up to the monitor and unable to move and get in positions that felt better for me. So, I asked the nurse if she could get this mystery doctor to actually come in and talk to me.

The nurse did us a huge favor and stayed away for a bit. I’m pretty sure she did it on purpose because she saw I was doing much better when I wasn’t tied down. I felt the sensation that I needed to use the bathroom again. But, this time I just felt like I was constipated and couldn’t get rid of the feeling. Except suddenly, I felt something that wasn’t poop. I was pretty sure I felt the baby’s head move. I jumped up off the toilet and reported to Trish that I thought I was pushing the baby. She had me move to the bath tub – I sat on the edge while she sprayed water on my back. It felt a bit better for the contractions, but not like when I was in the shower at home. During contractions I started to shake and feel the overwhelming urge to push. Trish told me blow out of my mouth instead of pushing, but it was very difficult. My body just seemed to want to push despite my efforts to control it.

12:10 pm We made our way back to the bed and Trish told the nurse I was feeling the urge to push. At the same time, doctor #2 finally came to my room. She asked me in haughty voice – "So, there’s something you wanted to discuss with me?" I couldn’t even remember what the issues were anymore. So, I just told her that I wanted to push. She said she’d do an exam to see how I was progressing…. "Well, I know why you want to push. You’re fully dilated and the baby’s head is in position 2." I’m going to page your doctor (doctor #3 – the doctor on call for my real doctor’s practice). I was told Doc #3 would be there in 10 minutes and I should try not to push until then. (Ha). 

Sometime around here I remember asking when the contractions would stop – I’d learned that there’s usually a period of calm between the worst of the contractions and the pushing. And I REALLY wanted that break. But, I didn’t experience that calm – the storm just kept blowing.

Doc #3 arrived quickly and the room sprung into action. She got herself suited up and the nurse got the baby warmer warmed up. The bottom of the table was lowered and they told me to find a comfortable pushing position. I tried to lie on my side, but the back pain was too intense. So, I lay on my back with legs up and started to FREAK out. I didn’t want to push. I was scared witless. Could I really push a baby out? It all seemed to be happening too quickly. I was worried I was going to tear because the baby seemed to be coming so fast. I told the doctor I was too scared to push and she talked me through it, telling me they wouldn’t let things go so fast that either I or the baby would be in danger.  She really calmed my fears and I was immediately happy she was there and not my real doctor who would never have handled the situation so well. With the next contraction the pushing began…

For the first few pushes I was letting out a high-pitched scream and I could feel the baby move slightly. Trish and the nurse kept telling me to bring the noise down lower in my body – out of my throat – and then I’d be pushing more effectively. I did a few more high pushes and then I had a breakthrough and finally understood the low push. When the next contraction came, I bore down, raised my head, lowered my chin, growled and pushed – the baby’s head peaked through. I could see the hair. The sight of the baby froze me. It seemed so surreal. They kept telling me to keep pushing and I had to fight my instinct to curl up in a ball in fear. The baby was partway out of me – there was no going back even though a piece of me really wanted to suck the baby back up inside me and forgo this whole birth thing. Someone asked if I wanted a mirror so I could see the baby better – no way! I felt better pretending I wasn’t pushing out a baby.

With the next contractions I gave two or three more big growling pushes and I could feel the baby’s head making its way out. I could also feel the BURN.  The ring of fire. Someone in the room told me the only way to stop the burn was too keep pushing, so I kept pushing. I heard the doc say the baby’s hand was coming out next to his face. In retrospect, this fact should have scared me back into my little ball. But, in the moment I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to stop the burn. It only took another contraction or maybe two to get the head (and hand out). Another push and the baby squirmed out.

He was put on my chest immediately and I stared at this squirmly little creature. I didn’t even know if it was a boy or girl at first. I just stared in disbelief. Where did this baby come from? I smelled his head and held him tight. Ian was standing over my shoulder – I looked up and saw Ian’s tears and something in me melted. The baby was crying now – screaming in short strong bursts. It was a beautiful sound. I took him all in and realized he was a boy. Our little boy. I asked Ian if he thought he was still a “Spencer” now that he’d seen him. Definitely. Our little Spence. (He would have been our little Mia had he been a girl.)

The nurse took Spence to check him out. The doctor had me push out the placenta (piece of cake compared to the baby) then started to stitch me up (if it weren’t for the position of his hand, I would have made it out stitchless). She couldn’t get me numb because of the location of the stitches so it was pretty painful. But I looked over and saw Ian holding our baby, all bundled up in a blanket and hat and I didn’t care about the pain. Bring it on – I could handle a few stitches. I’d done something much more powerful (and painful) — I’d given birth to a perfect little baby boy.

After I was cleaned up, they gave Spencer back to me and everyone cleared out of the room. Trish headed home and the doctor and nurses left us alone to bond. We just stared at the little face peeking out of his blanket and marveled at his perfect little features. We were immediately a family and instantly in love.