The highly anticipated - What a Quack: Part Two

I received a disgruntled e-mail (Hi Laura!) today regarding the suspense I was creating due to my lack of posting... so here you will find the highly anticipated part two of my birth story.

So after hanging out with the contractions for longer than I needed to, I summoned for my epi. Enter (as Master P endearingly called him) Twinkle Toes the Anesthesiologist Assistant. I wasn't really a fan of Twinkles Toes. He told me I asked too many questions. Hi, you're about to stick a flippin needle in my back that looks like a basketball pump, of COURSE I'm going to ask questions.

Twinkle Toes got the last laugh though. He decided the IV in my left hand wasn't sufficient (I'm not sure what gave that away... maybe the part where it was about three times its normal size). Twinkle Toes somehow decided that my right forearm was the appropriate place for IV Number 2. I don't know what gave him this impression -- I'm not the smartest person in the world, but there isn't a good vein there, to my knowledge. I tried to coax him to put it elsewhere, but Twinkle Toes knows best. Not. Enter lots of blood and bruising in my arm. I'd say the bruise was about six inches long and lasted longer than anything else from my delivery -- staples and back bruising from the epi included.

So whatev's... I got the epi. It was no big. Everyone talks about how getting the epi in the worst thing ever. I disagree. I hardly felt it and didn't really feel much pressure. After the epi they put a catheter in since you can't get up to go tinkle once you have the epi. That wasn't a big deal either. At this point, I didn't give a shit what they did to my hoo ha either.

Eventually the on call night doc came in to see how I was progressing. My poor Jillybean wasn't handling contractions so well. Every time I had one, her heart rate dropped, and it was staying down low for longer as time went on.

The doctor gave me a choice. I could c-section now, and she could pretty much guarantee Jillybean would be A-okay or I could wait it out and see what happened. She let me know that if I waited, and did end up needing a c-section, it'd be an emergency situation. I obviously opted for choice A. As pro natural childbirth some of you may be, when your child's, that you've been carrying for the last 9 and half months, life is potentially on the line, you do what you have to do.

Now I have to say I wonder what an emergency c-section would be like because from the time the decision was made to the time JBean was delivered, there was maybe fifteen minutes in between. They had my guts torn open before Master P was even in the room.

The c-section itself wasn't bad... but I think they should give you earplugs because you hear all sorts of things you don't want to hear. The scariest part was not being able to swallow -- only because I was breathing so heavily through my mouth with the oxygen mask on.

The best moment of my life was hearing Jillybean cry after she was born. Being strapped to a table wasn't so fantastic. I made Master P count all of her fingers and toes and I kept asking the pedi what her Apgar scores were (8 and 9 respectively).

At this point, Master P took JBean back to the recovery room while they stitched me up. This was probably the worst part. Not being able to hold her after carrying her for so long was heartbreaking. In fact, I didn't get to hold her for a little over two hours after her delivery. My body went into shock and I kept shaking like I was having seizures. But once I held her, it was magical. It was love at first sight. I've never loved anything or anyone as much as I loved her at that very moment, and the crazy part is that I love her more and more as each day goes on. I can't help but give her hugs and kisses.

What a quack!: Part One

While we're on the topic of ratards...

I realized I never told the story of my labor and delivery. I guess I'm trying to block the whole labor part out (but in all honesty, it wasn't nearly as bad as I expected).

As mentioned in a previous post, cervical checks didn't go so well for me. Three different doctors almost got a black eye from Mama D. Whatever, they get paid massive amounts of money so they can deal. Anyway, I went to the OB on my due date. When I first became pregnant, I started seeing Dr. P, but then for some reason, she was only working in the office one day a week and was always double booked and running late which pissed me off. The girl at the reception desk liked me because everybody likes me obvi so she started giving me the option to see different doctors throughout my pregnancy so save me time. I was fine with seeing different people since the chances of my OB delivering were slim (and truth be told, by the end of my pregnancy she was the last person I wanted to see). I had see Dr. D several times, and she just happened to be who I was seeing on my due date which was A-ok with me since she was my favorite.

So they gave me the old "get nakey from the waist down speech". Super. Hello high blood pressure. So whatever, Dr. D unsuccessfully tries to do a cervical check. She basically said F this noise, I'm not getting kicked in the head. And since I like her, I was ok with that attitude. Since I had no visible progression, we mutually decided to schedule an induction for a week and a half later just in case.

Since nothing in my life ever goes the way it's supposed to, guess what happened. I had to be induced.

So the following Wednesday night, after eating a delicious PB&J sandwich (it was like the hottest day of the year... it was legitimately 100 degrees in my apartment -- we don't usually put the air conditioners in until July..some years August because the weather is so temperamental here).

Once we got to the hospital, and were checked in, it was time to start Operation Make JBean Show Up (all while watching American Idol because there was no way I was missing the finale! Go Lee Dwyze). The nurse came in and mentioned giving me a pill to dilate my cervix and insert a foley bulb. I promptly said hells no to the foley bulb (especially when the nurse described it as torture...yeah I'm good).

So whatev's...they gave me some Ambien to help me sleep (HAHA, yeah, okay). Next morning comes around and they decide it's time for me to go to labor and delivery to start the pitocin. Hooray. So they start pumping it, and when the doctor comes in, they realize that..wait for it.. I wasn't dialated at all. Not even a smidge. As we all know, that's no bueno if you're on pitocin.

Dr. G (not medical examiner) was all like, hells no, this isn't going to work. So they bounced me back to the regular floor...where I'd just come from. To the exact same room. The nurses were all "Hey long time no see" and I was like STFU.

Master P was irritated beyond belief at this point. He just wanted his baby out and somehow felt like it was my fault that was wasn't producing. He decides it's a good time for him to go home and shower, since he stayed overnight with me.

Enter painful contractions. Apparently, I just needed to be patient because things started on their own. Dr. G came back about 4 hours later and I was at 3 cm. She gave me the okay to get the epi and sent me back down to L&D.

They get me situated and what not... I decide I want to hit the L&D nurse but luckily there's a shift change soon. New nurse comes in and she's about my age, unlike the old bitty with no personality so everything's cool.

Now I'd done my research on the epi and decided I was only going to get it if I needed it. Considering I was telling Phil to STFU every time I had a contraction and holding on for dear life, I thought it was a good idea to get one at some point but I didn't want to get it TOO early.

I allowed myself to have contractions for about another hour...

Stay tuned for part two!