labor two

My second pregnancy went pretty smoothly. We moved to a new town when I was in my third trimester, so I had to get a new doctor. I was very sad to be leaving Dr. Pushover. But the new one was great. Very kind and thorough and fatherly. My due date came and went. On the eighth day of overdueness, he was finally ready to induce me. I had been having contractions, but not ones that were doing anything productive. I thought that the baby would be in there forever. And ever.

Still feeling dejected about my first epidural experience....in that, I didn't even get to reap the benefits of a pain free transition, or relax my way from a one to a ten. I figured, I basically did the other labor with out pain meds, this time, I'm going to go med free. I can do it!

So we went in on a Tuesday. They started the drip. Nice mild contractions. But nothing was really happening, as far as dilating and effacing go. About three hours in, my doc checked, and said that the baby might just not be ready...didn't know if he should break my water....maybe I should wait it out another few days and see what my body does....the look of panic and anger on my face sent him to find another doc to second opinion. (I appreciated how conservative he was being about it all, but really just wanted this baby OUT. Yesterday.) While he was gone finding an OB to give her thoughts, I prayed for another cm. And PTL when this one checked, she gave the go ahead. He rechecked, and voila! Water breakage with a crochet hook. And the subsequent wetting. Woot! Let's get this party started!

I labored for a few hours before the pain got crappy. And another hour before they turned into the contractions of horror. I got up to use the bathroom, stopping every three steps, or so, to cling to my husband. And scratch up his face. (not really) And while in the bathroom (sorry, we're getting really acquainted here, aren't we?) I made up my mind I wanted an epidural.

"DO NOT GET AN EPIDURAL!" said a voice in my subconscious.

"Shut up, voice, I'm getting an epidural." I said back.

"You are not to get that epidural." It said again.

"Tell, the nurse I want an epidural." I told my husband. Smirking at the voice in my mind. Ha! I'll show you.

The epi was ordered, and an hour or so later, two anesthesiologists come into my room. One very seasoned looking, and one fresh out of the box. The fresh one stepped up to my back and with some quiet coaching from the other started to poke in the huge needle. A sharp and horrible pain shot down my left leg. "Ahhhhhhoowwwww!!!!" I yelled, uncontrollably.

"Oh, back out a little, you've hit a nerve." The older said.

Newbie tried again. Same thing. Backed it out again. Another try. Another nerve. Again and again, for six tries.

No go. My spine was "problematic." Great. It wasn't before. They tried to do some other kind of shot in my back, which "didn't take."

It was awful. They left. I was transitioning. The part of labor that sucks the worst. I wanted something. ANYTHING, to take away the pain. They gave me some kind of narcotic. In my IV.

Just then, I felt the urge to push. And so I did. And then the team of people all came in, my husband on one leg and a nurse on the other. I only pushed for about ten minutes, when the baby's head started to crown. And then the rest of him came out. And he was wonderful. And perfect. And huge. Nine pounds Six ounces. A joy. My boy.

It was after he was delivered that the narcotics began to kick in. I felt loopy. And yucky. Not in control. They gave me something to counteract the drugs, and all was well. Until I got The Headache.

All of the spinal pokes I received drained spinal fluid. So, when I was upright, my brain rested on my brain stem. (This is the most dumbed down version...the one I understand.) They could try and do a "blood patch", but because my spine was "problematic" it may only make things worse. Um, no thank you. Please don't make it worse.

So for the next eight days, I enjoyed my new baby while laying upon an ice pack pillow completely horizontal. I was okay, as long as I didn't have to sit up. I remember taking a nap between my two beautiful children, feeling so in love and lucky and blessed and just crying because I couldn't sit up to look at them. They were the loveliest worst days of my life.

And because of them, I have a new plan for labor three. I'll share that next.