A Labor of Love
Lana's birth was without a doubt one of the strangest and most surreal experiences of my life. I've documented the details of my labor lest I forget all the funny, painful, and completely ludicrous moments that defined that day. I apologize in advance for the length of the post. If you have little time or little interest in the status of my cervix, this is a good post to skip.
August 29, 2006
6:00am – John and I wake up and get ready to go to the hospital for our scheduled induction at 8:00am. I put on my “Hey Baby” maternity t-shirt in anticipation of meeting my baby today, and note that I am still having sporadic contractions.
6:30am – The hospital calls to tell us there are no beds available, so we should stay home and wait for a call when a room opens up. My “Hey Baby” t-shirt suddenly seems depressing.
6:45am – My mom arrives to accompany us to the hospital and gets the bad news that we’ve been put on hold. John goes to pick up Chick-fil-a chicken biscuits and a sweet tea to cheer me up.
8:00-10:00am – I fall asleep to the sounds of Heidi Klum dismissing wannabe designers on Project Runway reruns.
10:00-11:00 am – I wake up and find that my sporadic contractions appear to have stopped entirely. I am restless and feel like walking for the first time in weeks. Mom and I stroll up and down the street for the next 45 minutes.
11:00-11:45am – Back on the couch with more Project Runway. Just as the designers begin to unveil the potato sacks they’ve designed for “real women,” I feel a sharp pang and hustle it to the restroom where I decide that my water has broken.
11:45am–noon – My once mild contractions are becoming increasingly more painful. We decide that it’s time to go to the hospital, beds or no beds. I put in a call to my doctor and I’m told to go to her office before checking in at the maternity ward.
Noon-12:30pm – We make the commute from our house to the hospital. John makes jokes about changing his work schedule to go in at noon and miss the morning traffic. I have no sense of humor at this point.
12:30-1:30pm – I waddle up to my doctor’s office on the 14th floor and pace the waiting room while I wait to be called back. My look of distress speeds up the process, but I’m still weighed and have my vitals checked like this is a normal appointment. I finally see a doctor who seems surprised to find that I am over five centimeters dilated. This earns me a “direct admit” to the maternity ward.
1:30-1:40pm – I stagger out of the office and collect John from the hallway where he’s talking on his cell phone by yelling, “We’re going downstairs NOW!!!” We get into the elevator and begin the interminable ride down to the lobby, with the elevator stopping on every floor in between. I seriously consider giving the old man with a walker a push on the sixth floor to hurry him out the door.
1:40-2:00pm – I arrive in the maternity ward and check in at the desk. While I’m signing forms and putting on admission bracelets, a clueless couple distracts the desk attendant by trying to locate a friend. There is no one registered by the name they provide, and the couple proceeds to debate what the baby’s daddy’s last name might be. I am very close to telling them to go away and tell their friend not to be so slutty. Instead I groan and lean over the desk, forcing the desk attendant to finish my admission. I’m once again told that there are no rooms available, so I will have to wait a few minutes.
2:00-2:30pm – I pace the maternity ward waiting area and begin to draw stares from the people who can actually sit in chairs without moaning or looking like they might throw up. I finally stagger back to the admissions desk and tell the attendant that I am having contractions every two minutes and they’d better damn well get me a room. We are finally taken back to a labor and delivery room, where I change into a gown and collapse on the bed, waiting for a nurse.
2:30-3:00pm – I lie on the bed in intense pain with only my mom and John for support. We call for a nurse from the room, but no one comes. John finally storms out of the room and grabs the first person he finds in the hallway. Luckily, it’s a doctor and he points to a nurse to attend to me immediately.
3:00-3:30pm – The nurse who shows up begins my lab work, inserts an IV, and sets up monitoring of the baby’s heart rate and my contractions. She notices me writhing in pain on the bed and instructs me to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. This is the only thing that actually helps me endure the pain. I wonder why those childbirth classes last all day, when this is all you really need to know. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to breathe.
3:30-4:00pm – The nurse returns with Demerol to tide me over until the epidural arrives. It does little to decrease the pain, but does convince me that my mom has her glasses on upside down. John holds my hand and feeds me ice chips in between contractions. I open my eyes occasionally to find that the “Are You in Pain?” smiley/frowny face poster is mocking me.
Of course I am in pain, you stupid, worthless poster. I want to tell John to tear it down, but another contraction hits and all I can do is breathe.
4:00pm – The nurse returns to tell me that there are two people ahead of me for an epidural. I manage to squeak out a protest and she decides to examine my progress before leaving again. I am now over eight centimeters dilated, which allows me to cut in line and become next up for the epidural.
4:45pm – The anesthesiologist arrives to give me the epidural, at long last. I am in so much pain at this point that sitting up and bending over is far worse than the small prick in the back from the needle. The relief is almost immediate, and I feel like naming my daughter after the anesthesiologist, if only I could remember her name or even what she looks like.
5:15pm – The pain is gone, but I begin to feel tremendous pressure and a desire to push. I tell the nurse that it feels like I’m about to take the world’s biggest poop, and she says, “In a way, you are.”
5:30pm – I’m fully dilated and just waiting on my doctor to begin pushing.
5:45pm – My doctor arrives and it’s finally time to get this baby out. John retreats from the room in order to avoid collapsing on the floor. The nurse gives him a hard time, but I tell her to let him go and worry about me. We do some test pushes and my doctor declares me an excellent pusher. This is a huge relief, since no one likes a crappy pusher.
6:15pm – Despite my pushing prowess, the baby still isn’t out. The doctor tells me she is getting very close and shoves an oxygen mask on my face.
6:30pm – Pushing has grown tiresome, but the doctor continues to insist that the baby is almost out. She also tells me that the baby has a ton of hair. I suspect she’s lying about the almost out part, but I’m unwilling to look in the mirror she offers to confirm my suspicions.
6:45pm – Suddenly three more nurses appear in the room and I’ve got a complete cheering squad. The doctor pulls out a vacuum and a scalpel, and I have never been more thankful for epidurals.
6:52pm – She’s finally here! The doctor pulls her out and says: “Throw away the newborn clothes, because this baby is huge!” My mom cuts the cord and suddenly I’m looking into the eyes of my baby girl.
6:55pm – John comes back to the room to check on my progress and hears a baby crying from outside the room. He steps in and sees his daughter for the first time as the nurses administer the Apgar test. She scores and 8.9 out of 10. It’s not quite an A, but I cut her some slack since she’s only a few minutes old. John introduces her to my mom and staff as Lana Kathleen Mayes.
7:00pm – I have an almost 10 lb. baby and a slight fever after the birth, which earns Lana a quick trip to the hospital nursery to check for signs of infection and monitor her blood sugar. John accompanies her to the nursery and also announces her birth to our waiting family.
7:30pm – I’m left completely alone in the labor and delivery room while all the family admires Lana in the nursery. My father arrives to check on me after a few minutes, along with a nurse who asks if I want a Tylenol or a Percocet. I choose Percocet, because I just had a 10 lb. baby and I want something strong.
8:00pm – The nurse outfits me in some extremely attractive maternity wear and wheels me out of the labor and delivery room towards my mother/baby suite. I meet my mom and John along the way and get settled into my new room, which now has a mother but no baby.
8:15pm – Lana is still in the nursery, and a nurse arrives to provide instructions on caring for myself and our baby. John and his dad go across the street to Mick’s to pick up a burger and piece of Oreo cheesecake for me, which I totally deserve after giving birth to a 10 lb. baby.
9:00pm – John and David return with dinner, and the nurse is still rattling off instructions as my eyes glaze over. The cheeseburger perks me up.
11:30pm – Our parents have gone home for the evening, and Lana is finally returned to us. Our family is together, healthy, and safe. Life has never been better.
August 29, 2006
6:00am – John and I wake up and get ready to go to the hospital for our scheduled induction at 8:00am. I put on my “Hey Baby” maternity t-shirt in anticipation of meeting my baby today, and note that I am still having sporadic contractions.
6:30am – The hospital calls to tell us there are no beds available, so we should stay home and wait for a call when a room opens up. My “Hey Baby” t-shirt suddenly seems depressing.
6:45am – My mom arrives to accompany us to the hospital and gets the bad news that we’ve been put on hold. John goes to pick up Chick-fil-a chicken biscuits and a sweet tea to cheer me up.
8:00-10:00am – I fall asleep to the sounds of Heidi Klum dismissing wannabe designers on Project Runway reruns.
10:00-11:00 am – I wake up and find that my sporadic contractions appear to have stopped entirely. I am restless and feel like walking for the first time in weeks. Mom and I stroll up and down the street for the next 45 minutes.
11:00-11:45am – Back on the couch with more Project Runway. Just as the designers begin to unveil the potato sacks they’ve designed for “real women,” I feel a sharp pang and hustle it to the restroom where I decide that my water has broken.
11:45am–noon – My once mild contractions are becoming increasingly more painful. We decide that it’s time to go to the hospital, beds or no beds. I put in a call to my doctor and I’m told to go to her office before checking in at the maternity ward.
Noon-12:30pm – We make the commute from our house to the hospital. John makes jokes about changing his work schedule to go in at noon and miss the morning traffic. I have no sense of humor at this point.
12:30-1:30pm – I waddle up to my doctor’s office on the 14th floor and pace the waiting room while I wait to be called back. My look of distress speeds up the process, but I’m still weighed and have my vitals checked like this is a normal appointment. I finally see a doctor who seems surprised to find that I am over five centimeters dilated. This earns me a “direct admit” to the maternity ward.
1:30-1:40pm – I stagger out of the office and collect John from the hallway where he’s talking on his cell phone by yelling, “We’re going downstairs NOW!!!” We get into the elevator and begin the interminable ride down to the lobby, with the elevator stopping on every floor in between. I seriously consider giving the old man with a walker a push on the sixth floor to hurry him out the door.
1:40-2:00pm – I arrive in the maternity ward and check in at the desk. While I’m signing forms and putting on admission bracelets, a clueless couple distracts the desk attendant by trying to locate a friend. There is no one registered by the name they provide, and the couple proceeds to debate what the baby’s daddy’s last name might be. I am very close to telling them to go away and tell their friend not to be so slutty. Instead I groan and lean over the desk, forcing the desk attendant to finish my admission. I’m once again told that there are no rooms available, so I will have to wait a few minutes.
2:00-2:30pm – I pace the maternity ward waiting area and begin to draw stares from the people who can actually sit in chairs without moaning or looking like they might throw up. I finally stagger back to the admissions desk and tell the attendant that I am having contractions every two minutes and they’d better damn well get me a room. We are finally taken back to a labor and delivery room, where I change into a gown and collapse on the bed, waiting for a nurse.
2:30-3:00pm – I lie on the bed in intense pain with only my mom and John for support. We call for a nurse from the room, but no one comes. John finally storms out of the room and grabs the first person he finds in the hallway. Luckily, it’s a doctor and he points to a nurse to attend to me immediately.
3:00-3:30pm – The nurse who shows up begins my lab work, inserts an IV, and sets up monitoring of the baby’s heart rate and my contractions. She notices me writhing in pain on the bed and instructs me to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. This is the only thing that actually helps me endure the pain. I wonder why those childbirth classes last all day, when this is all you really need to know. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to breathe.
3:30-4:00pm – The nurse returns with Demerol to tide me over until the epidural arrives. It does little to decrease the pain, but does convince me that my mom has her glasses on upside down. John holds my hand and feeds me ice chips in between contractions. I open my eyes occasionally to find that the “Are You in Pain?” smiley/frowny face poster is mocking me.
Of course I am in pain, you stupid, worthless poster. I want to tell John to tear it down, but another contraction hits and all I can do is breathe. 4:00pm – The nurse returns to tell me that there are two people ahead of me for an epidural. I manage to squeak out a protest and she decides to examine my progress before leaving again. I am now over eight centimeters dilated, which allows me to cut in line and become next up for the epidural.
4:45pm – The anesthesiologist arrives to give me the epidural, at long last. I am in so much pain at this point that sitting up and bending over is far worse than the small prick in the back from the needle. The relief is almost immediate, and I feel like naming my daughter after the anesthesiologist, if only I could remember her name or even what she looks like.
5:15pm – The pain is gone, but I begin to feel tremendous pressure and a desire to push. I tell the nurse that it feels like I’m about to take the world’s biggest poop, and she says, “In a way, you are.”
5:30pm – I’m fully dilated and just waiting on my doctor to begin pushing.
5:45pm – My doctor arrives and it’s finally time to get this baby out. John retreats from the room in order to avoid collapsing on the floor. The nurse gives him a hard time, but I tell her to let him go and worry about me. We do some test pushes and my doctor declares me an excellent pusher. This is a huge relief, since no one likes a crappy pusher.
6:15pm – Despite my pushing prowess, the baby still isn’t out. The doctor tells me she is getting very close and shoves an oxygen mask on my face.
6:30pm – Pushing has grown tiresome, but the doctor continues to insist that the baby is almost out. She also tells me that the baby has a ton of hair. I suspect she’s lying about the almost out part, but I’m unwilling to look in the mirror she offers to confirm my suspicions.
6:45pm – Suddenly three more nurses appear in the room and I’ve got a complete cheering squad. The doctor pulls out a vacuum and a scalpel, and I have never been more thankful for epidurals.
6:52pm – She’s finally here! The doctor pulls her out and says: “Throw away the newborn clothes, because this baby is huge!” My mom cuts the cord and suddenly I’m looking into the eyes of my baby girl. 6:55pm – John comes back to the room to check on my progress and hears a baby crying from outside the room. He steps in and sees his daughter for the first time as the nurses administer the Apgar test. She scores and 8.9 out of 10. It’s not quite an A, but I cut her some slack since she’s only a few minutes old. John introduces her to my mom and staff as Lana Kathleen Mayes.
7:00pm – I have an almost 10 lb. baby and a slight fever after the birth, which earns Lana a quick trip to the hospital nursery to check for signs of infection and monitor her blood sugar. John accompanies her to the nursery and also announces her birth to our waiting family.
7:30pm – I’m left completely alone in the labor and delivery room while all the family admires Lana in the nursery. My father arrives to check on me after a few minutes, along with a nurse who asks if I want a Tylenol or a Percocet. I choose Percocet, because I just had a 10 lb. baby and I want something strong.
8:00pm – The nurse outfits me in some extremely attractive maternity wear and wheels me out of the labor and delivery room towards my mother/baby suite. I meet my mom and John along the way and get settled into my new room, which now has a mother but no baby.
8:15pm – Lana is still in the nursery, and a nurse arrives to provide instructions on caring for myself and our baby. John and his dad go across the street to Mick’s to pick up a burger and piece of Oreo cheesecake for me, which I totally deserve after giving birth to a 10 lb. baby.
9:00pm – John and David return with dinner, and the nurse is still rattling off instructions as my eyes glaze over. The cheeseburger perks me up.
11:30pm – Our parents have gone home for the evening, and Lana is finally returned to us. Our family is together, healthy, and safe. Life has never been better.
Labels: Pregnancy
posted by Jennifer at Wednesday, September 13, 2006
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