When we got to the third floor, a nurse took me back to examine me. I told her I had been 5.5 centimeters dilated on Friday without any contractions, but they were coming fast now. Fortunately, Dr. Schwartz saw me, remembered me, and told her if I was having contractions, then I was ready to go upstairs to deliver. I am thankful for that because it sped up the process.
The nurse said she would go ahead and do my IV and some other things that they normally do upstairs since they didn't have an open room yet. I went ahead and asked for an epidural to help with the pain because it was getting worse.
With my first son, I had thought I would try as long as I could without an epidural, but I ended up getting one and was very glad I did. The nurse said she would let them know upstairs that I wanted one. She also said I was very calm (i.e. quiet!) to be as far dilated as I was with contractions coming as fast as mine were. At this point, they were 3-4 minutes apart.
By the time we got upstairs to labor and delivery, I was in a lot of pain. I continued to ask anyone and everyone who came into my room for an epidural. As the pain increased, I could no longer sit still or stay quiet during the contractions. No position and nothing I did eased the pain. I know I was getting very loud, and I was flailing around like a rabid animal, in futile attempts to ease the pain. What I would give for a video of that morning!
Thankfully, one of the nurses let me squeeze her hand during the contractions. They were lasting so long and coming so fast that I couldn't even begin to think about relaxing between them. At one point I must have looked like I was going to bite her because she said, "You can squeeze my hand as hard as you want, but please don't bite me!" I am happy to report that I did not, in fact, bite her.
I kept asking for the epidural as I was literally writhing in pain, and they kept telling me it was coming. At one point, that same nurse that let me hold and squeeze her hand said the anesthesiologist was coming down the hall. But he must have been at the very end of the hall because minutes passed, and he still didn't come.
At some point, I began pleading, "Please...please...please," over and over again, begging for the epidural. I did not know what else to do, so I just kept repeating that over and over again, thinking they would surely grant my request if I asked nicely.
Side note: This kind of verbal repetition is a habit of mine that has become a coping mechanism. Whenever I am particularly nervous, stressed, angry, freezing cold, or just need the time to pass faster than it is, I sing "Jesus Loves Me" over and over again in my mind. I do not know when I started doing this, but I know that it helps because it gets my mind off of whatever it's fixating on. I remember reading a story about an abused child who had an older lady as a mentor. The child had never really responded to the mentor, but the lady didn't give up on her and would often sing to her. At one point, something traumatic happened to the child and she ended up in the hospital. She had completely shut down, and the only person the hospital knew to call was the mentor. The mentor came, and even though the child was in a very bad place, she opened up a little and crawled into the lady's lap while she sang to her. I don't even remember if "Jesus Loves Me" was what she sang, but it's what I sing.
OK, back to the birth story...
I can still remember looking at my husband in a moment of desperation, wide-eyed and panicked, "What if it doesn't come in time? What am I going to do?" That was the most physical pain I have ever experienced, and I believe that was the most panicked I have ever been in my life.
At one point, I felt like the baby moved down and I felt more pressure, but there was no way I was going to start pushing. The nurse wanted to check me to see how far dilated I was, but I turned over on my side, shut my legs, and cried, "No!" because I was afraid that I was fully dilated and that they wouldn't give me an epidural if that was the case.
Dr. Schwartz even asked if I wanted to just go ahead and push, and I said, "No," but in my mind, I was thinking, "Are you insane? Of course I don't want to just go ahead and push! What kind of a question is that?"
In that moment, all I could think about was my amazingly calm, stronger-than-I-am yoga teacher. She had shared with us that she had not had an epidural, and that she'd been OK during the contractions, but that she was surprised how painful it was when her baby's head crowned. I wasn't making it through the contractions fine, and I sure didn't want to know what it felt like when my baby's head crowned!
During all of this, I continued to beg, "Please...please...please," hoping that my good manners would make my epidural come faster. I was sweating all over, and I remember thinking, "This is what labor looks like on TV."
I didn't sweat with my first son, but I think that's because I was never in that much pain with him. I remember looking around and seeing all the nurses, standing quietly around the perimeter of my room, as they respected my wishes and waited. For a moment, time seemed to stand still.
Believe it or not, I am normally not a very vocally demanding person when it comes to health care. But in this kind of pain, I became one. I felt like this was one time in my life when I had the right (probably, more accurately, the privilege) of demanding to get what I wanted.
Finally, finally, finally, the anesthesiologist walked in the door, and the first wave of relief came. I was so thankful he was there, but I knew he still had to get the epidural in; I also knew that sometimes epidurals don't work.
I pulled myself up as fast as I could and got into position for him to insert the needle. I remembered that with my first son they waited to insert it until I was in between contractions, but this time the contractions were coming so fast and lasting so long that I was worried the anesthesiologist wouldn't want to give it to me. I assured him that I would be still, and I willed myself to do so because I knew this was my only chance of relief.
The anesthesiologist began his work, and it seemed like everything was going well. A few minutes in, I remember thinking, "This should be working now." Then I remembered that with my first son there was a button you could push to release more medicine in the epidural. They had told me to push it if I started feeling pain again. I only had to push it a few times back then, but I can not tell you how ready I was to push that button this time.
So then my constant plea changed from, "Please, please, please," to "Push the button, push the button, push the button." I was still in immense pain, and I looked over and saw my husband laughing at me. Normally, I would have lost it, but in that moment, I hurt so much that I didn't even care. Later, when I asked him about it, he said that he was not laughing at my pain, cries, or contortions, but at the fact that I just kept saying, "Push the button!" over and over again. I guess I can forgive him for that :)
"Push the button, push the button, push the button," I softly, methodically begged.
"Right now, I AM the button," my anesthesiologist said, somewhat emphatically, somewhat matter-of-factly, and definitely perfectly timed.
That is my favorite line ever. "Right now, I AM the button!" I will never forget those words.
Fortunately, the epidural did work, and I did get almost immediate relief once it kicked in. I stopped sweating, and I became very relaxed. They let me rest a few minutes before I started pushing, and I am thankful for that. "This must be what it feels like to be high," I told my husband. I felt so amazingly calm, relaxed, and happy, all of which stood in stark contrast to the excruciating pain, fear, and desperation I had felt only minutes earlier.
Soon after that, our beloved second child was born. He entered this world at 8:27 AM, less than 3 hours after I had my first contraction. He weighed 7 pounds, 10 ounces and was 20.5 inches long. He was and continues to be absolutely perfect.
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| The Button!! |
I would also like to add that I am currently reading Half The Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide with a group at my church. I never realized how extremely fortunate I am to receive the amazing healthcare I do until reading this book. I was not naïve enough to think that everyone has access to epidurals during childbirth. But I did not realize how many women around the world have virtually no access to health care professionals or facilities when delivering their babies, or how many women's lives are drastically changed forever from things like obstetric fistulas or other complications during childbirth, or how many women and babies die during the process.
So many women and babies around the world are negatively affected by a lack of financial resources, hospitals, and/or medical professionals. This all becomes very real when you read their stories just after giving birth. I highly recommend this book, as it is eye-opening to many different challenges that women face around the world, including human trafficking, sexism, lack of education, and extreme poverty. Interspersed throughout the book are stories of hope and redemption, along with those of the people and organizations that make them possible. This book has reminded me once again how unbelievably fortunate we are to live in the time and place that we do.
