Pre-induction

I went to my 37 week check-up excited to find out my induction date. I was supposed to be induced at 39 weeks, but plans changed.

My OB told me my amniotic fluid was suddenly low. (It was fine at the previous ultrasound, two weeks earlier.) I was fortunate to be getting these extra ultrasounds in my third trimester, thanks to GD. Since I hadn’t noticed any leaking fluid, it was likely a sign of a placenta issue. And so it was time to induce.

I thought I had another week and a half. I hadn’t tied up any loose ends at work!

I went straight to the hospital for an NST, which went well. Baby had a strong heartbeat and moved around a lot. I waited in the hospital for most of the afternoon and evening before finally seeing the on-call doctor who said I’d be admitted that night. She let me go home first to get my stuff (yeah, I really should have had that bag packed weeks ago) and eat a light meal. My husband frantically finished what he could get done at work, met me at home to help pack, and we returned to the hospital.

Induction

My first step for induction was supposed to be a cervical balloon. It hurt like a bitch being put in, but that might have been because my cervix was so far up. Every check was agony, since no one could reach it. Not 5 minutes after it went in, it shot right back out again. The doctor said he (yes, it was “he” now. Shift changed) wasn’t going to try to put it in again as there was no reaching in any further.

It was oxytocin time.

I’d like to add that (fortunately) before this point, I had never been a patient in a hospital before. Everything I’d been nervous about (an IV, an epidural, my modesty) somehow didn’t matter when the time came. What had to be, had to be, and it was happening whether I dwelled on it or not.

The IV went in easily and within a couple of hours I was feeling strong menstrual cramp level of pain contractions. They were bearable, but a little too painful to sleep through. So when I was offered a morphine injection in my butt to take the edge off and help me rest, I accepted.

I slept well from about 1 am to 6:30 am. The OB returned to check me. I was nearly 2 cm. Even though the morphine should have worn off after 4 hours, I still wasn’t feeling much pain. I’m pretty sure the oxytocin was at the maximum at this point, too.

The doctor asked me about my epidural plan (which was to try to tough it out if I could, but I’d get one if I couldn’t). Even though the pain was still completely tolerable, he suggested if I planned to get one at all that now would be the time.

The reason? The chief of anesthesiology was about to finish his shift and he was the best guy for the job. The OB didn’t want to risk a different doctor not getting it in place and having to redo it (a common problem with us larger folk and spinal anesthesia).

So I went for it The hardest part was curling up into a tight ball while experiencing labour pains (also with a huge belly in the way), but other than that I felt nothing. Smooth sailing. My legs got heavy and numb and I never had to feel a really bad contraction. I was able to relax and chat with family through the morning and rest some more before the hard part.

Birth

It was barely after lunch and I’d hit 10 cm (being relaxed can really speed up dilation). I had to wait to start pushing, though. They wanted to dial down the epidural first so I’d feel a little something and have the urge to push with each contraction.

Pushing was difficult. I knew when I was pushing the right way and when I’d slip into the ‘wrong way’ (generally just tensing up and squeezing in rather than pushing out). But I would still go back and forth. I burst a lot of blood vessels in my face in the process and looked terrible in photos those first few days. I never felt any progress. I couldn’t feel him moving down. I just trusted when I was told it was a good push. I was lying on my back (semi-upright) to start. My husband held one leg and counted, while the nurse held my other leg and manipulated things down below. At one point I turned to lay on one side to push, and maybe 15 minutes later I laid on the other side, which is how I was positioned when he came out. The nurse was amazing, and basically delivered this baby. The OB showed up at the last minute just for the glory. Heh.

I remember during the hospital tour the guide said you’ll know when they turn on the warmer that the baby is minutes away from coming out. When the OB arrived with another nurse, the new nurse turned on the warming unit on the baby’s bassinet and my husband nudged me and smiled. He was almost here.

The head coming out hurt. The shoulders coming out hurt too. I know I screamed. But then it was done. I could hear my husband’s reactions to seeing him and I listened to the commotion around the baby being prepped and checked over. It was like being in a dream. Or an alien abduction. I couldn’t see anything but a bright spotlight, though I knew what was happening, and everything was in a slow motion haze.

I still felt sore and crampy and the need to push after he was out. That didn’t go away until I delivered the placenta. I’m not entirely sure of the order of events from there, but his cord was cut, scored a 9 on the Apgar, and was finally (apparently it was only 2 minutes, but it felt like forever) placed on my chest.

The weight of him surprised me at first. He wasn’t a huge baby at 7 lbs. 12 oz., but it felt like he knocked the wind out of me. While I held him, the doctor stitched up my (first degree) tears.

Post partum

It’s true what they say about modesty when you have a baby. I’m as self-conscious about my body as a person gets, but it all goes out the window from the moment you’re in that hospital bed.

Total strangers saw every part of me. My husband witnessed the entire birth process and a load of disgusting things he can never unsee. I whipped my breasts out to any person who came into the room to check how I was feeding him. I’m sure I pooped on the bed when I pushed, as everyone else says they did. And, possibly the worst yet, the nurse watched me use the toilet for the first time after delivery, showed me how to clean myself, and helped me into the mesh underwear/massive pad bloodbath catch-all combination.

And I didn’t care. I trusted these professionals to know what was right for me to do in each moment and I went along with all of it.

I’m still in shock that I delivered vaginally (my mom, my sister, and my closest friend had C-sections with all their kids, so a ‘normal birth’ was just foreign to me). I’m grateful for my easy pregnancy and easy birth. It all went as smoothly as anyone could hope for. It blows my mind that I made a person, and that he came out in perfect health. Every day I try to remain humbled by this.

As I was discharged from the hospital with this tiny being in a car seat, waiting for my husband to bring the car to the entrance, I watched people pass by. I wanted them to be excited for me and look at the baby I made and smile. Some looked, most didn’t. Then I saw a young woman (much younger than I) in a head scarf, thin and tired from cancer treatment, being wheeled out by her mother and husband.

I am an idiot.

With added thanks to hormones, my tears welled up immediately and flowed freely. Every concern I ever had about modesty or lack of sleep or being entrusted with this baby is so trivial. We are healthy, we are strong, and I am lucky to have the privilege of such worries.

 

P.S. Unfortunately, things were not as perfect after discharge. We hit a health snag and major breastfeeding issues that landed us back in the hospital after a few days. I think it’s an important warning to share with as many people as possible, but it will have to be a story for another time. (And here's that story)