the sleppys

I was exactly 41 weeks along. It was a Friday. My mother-in-law joined me to the appointment in case I needed someone watch Ty (16 months) or to remind me not to have a C-section. The doctors wanted me to go to the hospital to get an ultrasound. *sigh* Fine. After stopping by Barnes & Noble for lattes and bagels, we got to the hospital at 11 am. At noon, I was told to lay on a hospital table to have an insanely uncomfortable fetal monitor strapped to my belly. The monitor was on, but the nurse forgot to turn on the “record” function. So 45 minutes of sitting on my bum were wasted. I sat another 45 minutes. During that time, I felt some Braxton-Hicks, but thought nothing of it because I had been feeling contractions since I was 30something weeks. That was over. We sat around, waited. Sat some more. Got hungry. Sat. Waited. Thought about food. Sat. Waited. Got grumpy. I finally got an ultrasound at THREE PM! I was famished, so I told the nurse that we were going to the cafeteria to eat.

“You’ll come back, right?”
“Yea, I’m just really hungry.”

During Ty’s birth, the nurses didn’t let me eat anything in case I needed to be anesthized. But I wasn’t going to have any of that this time, so I ate. And ate. I had a cup of chocolate milk and one cup of white milk. I had a sandwich, a salad, chicken nuggets, Coke, and a blueberry muffin. Ty had a little bit of what I had, and I think my MIL had a sandwich, too. We went back upstairs to the “Birth Day Place.”

The nurse said, “Ok, the doctor is going to be here, so I’ll put you into a room so you can undress and robe and he’ll break your water.” ????? No, he’s not. No, I won’t. No, you won’t. I’m going home. I felt absolutely no sign that this baby was going to be born today. None. And I don’t believe that babies should be forced out.

I called my husband, who had been WORKING all day, “They want me to stay to break my water.”
“Are you in labor?’
“No.”
“Then why are you there?”
“They want me to have the baby now.”
“You’re not under arrest. You can leave.”
“But.. I… uh… don’t know how to speak up for myself.”
“I’ll be there shortly.”

While waiting for him, I used the bathroom and discovered the “bloody show,” which is the mucus plug’s falling out along with a tinge of blood. After that, I started feeling contractions. Not Braxton-Hicks. These were definitely real, 25 seconds long, and three minutes apart. Sharp contractions but not painful. Dad got to the hospital about 4:20pm, and I said, “I think we should stay.”

At 5 pm, MIL took care of Ty while Dad and I were escorted to a waiting room for women in labor. The nurse said the delivery rooms were full. Contractions were 2 minutes apart, and, on a scale of one to ten, the pain was at 5. Fifteen minutes later, a doctor came to break my water. I didn’t want him to, and I don’t think that he noticed that I was in labor. He seemed too busy for anything (Friday, 5pm? It’s time for golf). “Do you mind if the midwife delivers the baby?” This is why we pay doctors the big bucks.

The nurse told me that I had to walk down the hall to the delivery room. I was really quiet and looked to Dad to read my mind and speak for me. I thought, I don’t really want to walk down the hall, but a good walk never hurt anyone. What the nurse didn’t tell me was the “down the hall” was 50 yards down the hall.

I climbed on the bed onto my fours, which was so comfortable, but the nurse told me that I couldn’t have the baby that way. I sometimes feel like hitting people when they say dumb things like that, but I was in labor and just wanted her to shut up. Then they started with the evil Pitocin (as if I wasn’t obviously making my own oxytocin!) I think the baby could have had a completely natural birth if it weren’t for all the medical staff and their stupid drugs. The Pitocin was so bad that I even asked for an epidural! Luckily, a nurse told me that I had to wait.

At 5:30pm, the contractions were less than a minute apart, sharp, and low in my back. I was pushing without telling the nurses. I swear, if you tell the nurses anything, they’ll tell you that you’re wrong. So I kept on pushing while Dad had his fist in my back. One of the nurses noticed my pushing and gave a holler warning to the other nurses. “The doctor isn’t here. Don’t push.” Yea, okay. And I pushed. The nurses had the sense to grab a doctor who was walking down the hall. I saw him putting on his gloves, saying, “I’m a doctor. You can push now.” Good!

At 5:51pm, Kyle was born.