How to Make a Nugget: The Conclusion- Part 1

This is the fifth part of a series I'm writing about my pregnancy and birth. There's a disclaimer around here somewhere. Anyway, proceed with caution! I appreciate everyone who's taken the time to stick with me though this long, drawn out tale!

Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here
Part 3 is here
Part 4 is here

Part 5: The conclusion part one or  “Dr. Bradley Is Dead to Me”

When we arrive at the Hospital, we are immediately in all sorts of trouble with the evil nurse who checks us in.
“You don’t know if your water broke because no one ever knows that. Whoa, IT DID! Why didn’t you get here the minute your water broke?!” “You should have been on IV fluids this whole time!” “Why did you bring so many pillows?” “No, I don’t want to see your birth plan. I’ll tell you the birth plan” she said.

I also fibbed a little bit about the time frame for which my water had actually broken because as soon as it breaks, you’re on the clock to have the baby in 24 hours or you’re off to surgery. It’s not really that big of a deal. It just statistically increases the chances of infection. Allison said I could fib, so I did. I was in survival mode at that point and had no morals. It was “Lord of the Flies” and I was trying to keep the conch shell. I knew, right off the bat, that this woman was going to be a pain in my tuchus. Little did I know what was about 
to happen.

More after the jump... if you are really, really brave. 

This Lady proceeded to administer the most painful, obstetrical exam in the history of time. I thought she was going to kill me via her hands up in mah lady business and I screamed as if this were the case.  Again, I thought the baby was ready to emerge and could only imagine that her hand was triggering the decent. Just so that you know, in order to have the baby, your cervix has to the dilated to a TEN before you can push the baby out. Anthony had to put his hand up and stop this woman from continuing the exam because he could see I was about to have a heart attack from pain. She removed her hand, rolled her eyes at us and announced I was at a ONE.
I lost it.
I melted down.
I couldn’t believe that after all I had been through in the previous 24 hours we were nowhere near to being parents. To put it into perspective, women walk around dilated to a one or a two for the last couple of WEEKS of being pregnant. I was exhausted at that point could see no end in sight. Sitting there with contractions hitting me over and over, I cried.

They took us to our real room which was super fancy and plush. Anthony found a comfy recliner in which to sit because it was two o’ clock in the morning. And there he stayed. There was no coaching. There would be no sweet things whispered in my ear like we practiced. I trucked up and down the halls dragging my IV pole to which they forced me to attach myself and cursed my conviction to have a natural childbirth. 

Me posing with the virgin Mary while pacing the halls.

I wasn’t the only one. The nurses regularly came in and asked me if I wanted an anesthesiologist even though I assured them that I did not and reminded them that in my birth plan that I had made copies of for all of them for clearly, no particular reason I could see, it stated that I didn’t want anyone to ask me. They also ignored my wishes not to be told to which diameter I was dilated when they examined me, each exam more excruciating than the last. They did tell me every time. And every time they said, “one” I died a little inside, shed a few tears and pushed on.

When I couldn’t walk anymore, I took shifts taking a contraction in bed, on the birthing ball, and because I was crunching mass amounts of the amazing ice the labor and delivery department had to offer, the powder room. It was a huge production to get into the freezing bathroom with my giant IV pole, shut the door, disrobe and brace myself for the next contraction. Then, I returned to bed to start the cycle again.

This went on for all the next day.  I know that people came to see me.  I know that Anthony hardly left my side and kept me laughing even though it hurt to laugh. And that my poor, sweet aunts saw me acting stark, raving mad with pain at one point. All I could focus on were my breathing and meditations and not going crazy. I should mention that even in my delirium, I kept my pearls on the whole time and continued to re-apply my make-up. In case the baby came, I wanted him to think he was born to a nice family. Despite my best efforts, he met me looking a little haggard, to say the least. 

At one point, Anthony asked to see my aunts out in the hall, and I wondered what kind of conspiratorial campaign was going on out there. It was only months later that I learned that Anthony had pleaded with them to not to leave him, because he could tell I was not myself and he needed their support so he didn't lose it too. He's a good, smart man, my baby daddy. He knows when to call in the troops. That's exactly why I hitched my wagon to his in the first place. It was such a comfort having my aunts there. They were the only ones we told that we were going to the hospital I think. I had earlier equipped them with a key to come aid Polly in her time of need. Poor, poor Polly. Becoming a big sister has been rough on that pup.   
Anthony's coach shirt I made for him.

Finally, mercifully, I made the decision to take some lighter, non- epidural drugs. Then, I took it back. Then I asked for them again. Then I took it back.

Then I got them somewhere into the afternoon that day. I felt a little bit better. I felt like I might make it and have a baby after all.  I could still feel the pain; I just didn’t feel like it was going to end me.  Mostly, I was exhausted. I had been up for days enduring one wave of constriction after another.  I was shaking and my eyes were glazed over. I don’t remember much of anything before I called the anesthesiologist.

I should mention here that everyone else but one in my birthing class had natural child births with no drugs. They were able to have difficult but happy birth experiences. I would try to again if I ever decided to have another child.

When the anesthesiologist came later that afternoon, he warned us that it would be difficult for him to administer an epidural because of my weight at the time and because of my scoliosis. But it worked. Man, did it work. It was immediate and perfect salvation from the torture that I’d been experiencing for weeks by that point. I’ve never been so grateful to anyone for anything. EVER. Chad was his name I remember, and I'm sure he's an angel of mercy sent to earth. I finally lay back and laughed out of relief. Anthony, sat back in his recliner with his head in his hands and said “Oh thank God. Dr. Bradley is dead to me.” To this day, if asked, Anthony will happily regale you with all the injustices with which he was forced to cope that day. Mostly because he’s not allowed to talk about them to me.

When it comes to who’s time was harder on January 4th, 2010: I win. But I’m not complaining. Things were about to go from fine to GREAT. Exhausted and finally warm and happy, I looked up at the little resident (who looked terrified to tell me because I'd tersely reminded her not to offer me drugs earlier in the day) as she informed me that we couldn't wait any longer. It was time to take the baby via C-section, the thing I'd been trying to avoid with all my careful preparations for months. I knew, almost immediately, that this was probably the case because it was almost 5 o' clock in the evening and "quittin' time" for the Dr. but I did't care.

I was about to meet my nugget. All I wanted in the world was to hold Maxwell and to finally be his mother. At this point, I knew I had earned it. So, I didn't fight it. I chose to be grateful for the moment. I also knew that even if my body had gotten it together and dilated (through all this, I was only ever a two), I wouldn't have had the energy to push the little guy out. I was spent, but grateful and thrilled for the moment for which I'd been waiting. I was ready to accept motherhood and all it would bring with it. It's a good thing. Because it was about to be quickly thrust upon me. What happens next is still amazing, even to me and I was there.

(to be continued-- tomorrow)

Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here
Part 3 is here
Part 4 is here
Part 5 is here
Part 6 is here


Tina Blankinship said...

I laughed, I cringed, I hugged my birth control, and I'm thinking adoption sounds like a good option for Mr. B and I!!! Loving this, sweetie and I'm so glad you're sharng.

nekoknits said...

Love you hun, your mindset at the end of it all was just right. Like they say about the best laid plans of mice and men! Remind Mr. E that you will have a persoanl nurse if you chose to go another round with the baby thing =)

Lacy said...

Listen, tomorrow's finale will have you throwing your bc in the trash. Or me stealing it and replacing it with tic tacs. Sorry. I have to get my little greem-eyed niece somehow.

Pauline Mcreynolds said...

Honey, you weren't stark raving mad, you gave it your all but just weren't meant to push "little" Max out. You stood it much longer than most could have. Thanks for sharing. Love

Lacy said...

I've already told him he's been replaced :)

Lacy said...

Thanks, Aunt P :)

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