Last Thursday I was one week overdue and went into the hospital to have the obstetrician have a looksie at things and decide when to induce. He said to come in the next morning at 8am to be induced (gulp!) and then swept my membrane "just to see if things will get started on their own" and sent me away. I was pretty freaked out because I felt like I had just made an appointment to give birth, which made me painfully aware of how imminent labour was. Anyhow, Jim and I went out for some groceries, cleaned, ordered pizza and watched a movie, and just enjoyed our last night as a twosome. We made sure our bags were packed, showered, brushed our teeth and went to bed, ready (or as ready as we could be) for our appointment with parenthood in the morning.
At four in the morning, I awoke feeling like someone was drilling into my back. My first thought was "You have got to be freaking kidding me." This kid puts me through a week of extra waiting, then when someone else decides when he's going to come, he kicks us all in the balls and decides we're doing it his way. I have no idea who he got that from...
Anyhow, I got out my watch and since my contractions were 9 minutes apart, decided not to wake Jim and to go into the living room to have a snack and relax while waiting for Jim to wake up at 7, figuring we would call the hospital around 7:30 to let them know that I went into labour on my own and that we would come in when my contractions were closer together, knowing that could take a long time.
5:30 - Contractions are 5 minutes apart.
6:30 - Contractions are 3 minutes apart.
7:00 - Contractions are 2 minutes apart. I am hunched over the bathroom sink, moaning and crying, as Jim gets things into the car as fast as he can and makes me toast with peanut butter.
7:30 - We arrive at the hospital. Contractions are 1.5 minutes apart. I am not happy.
My labour nurse Bev brought me into the delivery room, sweetly tells me to change into a gown and that they would hook me up to the monitor to see how things were progressing. In the bathroom, as Jim is helping me undress and get into the gown I am making this really attractive noise deep in my throat, signalling my discomfort to the nurse. This happens 3 times within the next 5 minutes, and the nurse peeks her head in to ask how I am. I just look up at her, mid-contraction, and she says "Let's get her dressed and onto the bed so she can have some nitrous oxide."
As soon as I'm hooked up to the monitor Bev remarks that my contractions "sure are fast and furious" at which point I feel like yelling "NO SHIT, MAKE IT STOP!" but because she's so sweet, I keep my thoughts to myself and continue to moan into the gas mask. A lovely girl named Elise (student nurse) is rubbing my feet and quietly encouraging me, as Jim holds my hand and coaches me to breathe. For some reason, I was having a hard time with the whole breathing thing.
I would like to point out that at this point my thoughts are circling around one thing: "If this is going to get worse, I'd like to explore the option of doctor-assisted-suicide please."
Bev examined me and said that I was 4 centimetres dilated, and I wanted to cry, not knowing how long it would take to get to ten, and seriously reconsidering my decision not to take the drugs.
By 9:00 I was 8 centimetres dilated, and Dr. Joshi arrived assessed the situation and calmly said "Looks like the baby will be here around 10:00" as if this was a dinner party, and we were just waiting for the last guest to arrive. Normally this calm assessment of the situation would have infuriated me, but for some reason it calmed me down. Probably because it felt like there was light at the end of the tunnel. I asked for drugs. Dr. Joshi said there was no point, because by the time they started working we'd be done. Awesome. I wanted to die.
I would write about the next two hours in detail, but I've decided not to catalogue those particular memories because I'm afraid that if I do, I won't have any more children. This way, hopefully I forget. I will tell you this though...it hurt. It hurt like nothing has ever hurt before in my life. Nothing and no-one could have possibly prepared me for the pain of labour. I actually probably couldn't even do it justice if I did try to describe it here. It was pure unadulterated hell. Oh, and I tore. My vagina. I tore my vagina and needed stitches. In my vagina. And for the record, vagina stitches are the second most painful thing I've ever experienced, with the first being labour.
Jim was incredible. Somehow he knew just what to say and when to say it, when to squeeze my hand, when to remind me to breathe, when to encourage me, and when to just sit there and let me hold his hand. Maybe I could have done it alone, but as I lay there I remember thinking that I wouldn't be able to go on without him there. He was like an anchor. Wonderful man.
11:05 - Tate William James MacCabe is born. 8lbs 13.5oz, 56 cm long, absolute perfection.
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I'm a mother! Tate was born and seeing him for the first time was the most wonderful, beautiful, surreal and memorable experience of my life. I was instantly hooked. After they had cleaned him up and checked him out and I was holding him, I lay there thinking "This is BIG love." I stared at him, wondering how it was possible that he was mine forever, that I got to keep him and have him and enjoy him for the rest of my life. It was worth every second of pain, and I would do it again ten times over.
After two nights in the hospital, we were discharged. Jim buckled Tate into his carseat and we walked out of the hospital and headed home...as a family.
This is my last pregnancy blog post, but because I have so enjoyed blogging over these past several months I've decided to write a blog about our family life. The link is here: http://happyholisticfamily.blogspot.com/
I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it, and I truly appreciate the encouragement and support of those of you who have been a part of this journey from day one. Much love!
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