January 7, 2010 § 12 Comments
Delivery was completely not what I expected, not that I had a plan or anything (ie. I’d get a c-section, it might take 20 hours, would be induced, or something along those lines) but nothing like how it actually turned out. We had gone to our OB the previous day, and I was only about 2 cm dilated with no real contractions. She said I was pretty effaced and that it could be any day now, but to a 9.75 months pregnant woman that translates to “this thing is never coming out, sucker.”
So we went home and I was pretty sure nothing was going to happen. But later that night I slept really uncomfortably with what I thought were just the random aches and pains of a small human crushing my insides slowly until I became a sandwich between it and the mattress. The next day we went about the usual routine, which that day included a crew of 5 men flying between our 35+ feet tall trees with ropes and chainsaws, plus a dog who was scared to death of them and hiding in my closet. By the time the arborists left, my contractions were getting pretty regular (every 15-20 min or so). The pain sucked, but who says contractions are fun? They’re supposed to hurt, I knew this, so I dealt. But it got BAD, people. I mean doubled-over-in-pain bad, plus the pooping. Did I forget to mention the pooping? Yeah, you apparently poop A LOT right before having a baby. So there I was, pooping and cramping and all kinds of pretty!
Then literally within two hours, my contractions went from 15 minutes apart to 6 minutes apart to 4 minutes apart. 5 minutes apart is when you call the doctor, so the Mr. called since I was in no shape to utter anything except an f-bomb, and they said to go ahead and get to the hospital “just in case.” We threw everything in the car and headed out. This is when the shit hit the fan. I stared at that little crap clock in my Camry and saw that they were coming in steadily at 4 minutes apart, and all I could think of was that I could not have my baby in this car on Peachtree during rush hour. The Mr. was very serious about getting me there quickly and safely, which was good because I was about to prove whether the windows were tempered glass when we arrived at Piedmont.
Because we were so completely out of it, we didn’t even think to go straight to the ER. Instead, we parked in the deck near Labor & Delivery and (surprise) I got out of the car, took one step, then doubled over and couldn’t walk. Thankfully a security guard drove up in a golf cart, picked up up, called ahead to the ER, and they wheeled me into a delivery room where I was promptly stripped of all my clothing and told to spread them. Then I heard this: “You’re fully dilated – we’re having this baby now!” Um, HOLY. SHIT.
Again, I knew contractions were supposed to hurt, but I had no idea I was so far along. They had me start pushing immediately with NO PAIN MEDS. Excuse me? The look on my face when they said that there was no time for an epidural or other delicious narcotics had to have been priceless. I, of all people, was going to have a natural crunchy granola hippie birth? Apparently so. The popular question is “Did it hurt?” To which I respond with a little phrase from birthing class: it’s called the RING OF FIRE for a reason, people. And to everyone who did it (on purpose or not) without drugs: you all deserve medals and to have your mortgages paid – holy shit was that hard.
They really weren’t kidding when they said this baby was coming … and fast. I pushed for around 30 minutes with the peppiest 4 nurses, doctor, and my husband cheering me on, and all of a sudden I heard what I looked forward to for the last seven months: IT’S A …. GIRL! They placed this tiny, warm, wet, grunting little human being on my stomach, I looked into my husband’s eyes, and it was the happiest moment of my life.
So there we were: got to the hospital at 5:00pm and had a daughter at 5:46pm. The Mr. cut the cord, we held each other in the sweetest embrace, and the three of us were a family.