Smooch's Birth Story - Part 3

Be sure to read part 1 and part 2 of Smooch's birth story before reading this.  This is the third and final part of the story:

It was about 10:30 p.m. and I finally had a room of my own.  However, I was still not able to labor in peace. Nope.  Between contractions I had to tell the nurse my date of birth five times, as well as answer a montage of other irritating questions that no one should ever ask a woman while she's in labor.  The whole time I kept thinking, What is the point of pre-registration if you still don't know my date of birth!?  My Stud tried to answer for me on a few occassions while I took slow, deep, concentrated breaths.  He wasn't allowed  to do that though, so we continued this little dance of question, contraction, answer for the next 30 or 40 minutes.

All I wanted to do was walk.  Contractions are so much easier to handle from a standing position.  After being told that I could not get up and walk around because I had to be on the monitor (they were determined to keep the baby inside my body), I informed our nurse that I would like a wireless monitor then.  I was also reminded for the third for fourth time that I was welcome to an epidural.  I believe my response was polite but pionted.  I may have asked her not to mention it again. Or maybe I just thought it in my head.

The nurse took her time getting the wireless equipment.  By the time I was hooked up and mobile it was after 11 p.m.  I still wasn't finished with the check-in process so between contractions and walking, I had to sign some papers.  Amazingly, I even stood there and read them before signing.

I had to go to the bathroom, but only got a tiny trickle to come out.  I had only been out of the bed for about 5 minutes, when it no longer felt good to walk through contractions.  Really, walking felt awful.  Contractions were 4 to 5 minutes apart.  Right before My Stud helped me climb onto the bed, my legs started to tremble with enough power to give me flashbacks of my unpleasant previous birth experience.  For the first time during this labor, I felt frightened.  I was just waiting for that "out of control, buried underneath a wall of pain" feeling that I remembered so clearly.  I began to question my absurd decision to refuse medication.  However, I didn't have to time to contemplate it more than a moment because my contractions started coming fast enough that I just closed my eyes and pressed my head into the upright mattress.   Try as I may, I was no longer able to focus on relaxing during the contractions.

I thought I was screaming, but My Stud later informed me that I was only moaning.  Moaning and panting.  Still I was sure they could hear me down the hall.  The pediatric nurse was the only medical personnel in the room.  She was still working on finishing all of our paperwork - this time for the baby - asking more questions in the 30-second intervals between contractions.  To my relief, she finally stopped talking to me and called my nurse.

Then a strange thing happened.  My hands and feet started to go numb.  It moved to my arms and legs.  I stared in disbelief as my fingers curled up, my hands rendered completely useless.  What's wrong with my hands!?  Mortified, I told Clay to rub my hands, hoping he would bring some life back into them.  I literally couldn't move them or grab anything. 

As soon as she walked in, I said with a calmness that surprised myself, "A head.  I feel a head. Moving down.  A head.  She's coming."  These nurses were in the business of not believing what a laboring woman says.   

For the first time since triage, they checked my cervix at my insistence.  Much less calm than I, the nurse exclaimed, "She's complete!  She's complete! Call the doctor!"

All the while, I was demanding that someone figure out why my hands were shriveling up.  Again, I found myself a bit frightened.  The nurse (who proved herself to be a bit on the ditzy side) couldn't figure it out.  The pediatric nurse, almost shouted, "Oxygen!  She needs oxygen!"

All of a sudden, the place turned into a war zone.  It seems there are few medical emergencies like childbirth.  Or so you would have thought to see and hear those nurses.  Tables were wheeled in, things were flung about, paper crinkled, gloves snapped into place, I was quickly rearranged.  Lots of speaking in hurried, worrisome tones.  People that I had never met scurried around the room in an almost panicked state. 

As the baby moved down the birth canal, my water burst, and projected itself all over the floor.  I could tell that her head was about two inches away.  More distressed voices.  "Do not slip!  We have water all over the floor.  Be careful!"  More scurrying.  A random doctor whose job is not to deliver babies rushed into the room - Dr. Thrift.  How appropriate. 

With the oxygen mask on, my fingers loosened up so I could open and cose my hands again,  and I began to get the feeling back in my hands and feet.  The nurse removed the mask.

I needed to push.  I don't think anyone actually told me to push.  I might have asked if I could.  I can't remember.  All I know is that as a contraction came, I pushed like my entire life hung on that one moment.  It burned, and I could feel every pull and stretch.  I didn't care if I pushed so hard that I tore.  I wanted it to be over and over quickly! 

With that first push, her head emerged.  By the sounds of the exclamations that ensued, you would have thought the nurses had never witnessed a birth before this moment.  Before that contraction was over, I pushed again even harder, with new strength and courage like the sprint at the end of a marathon.  Out came her shoulders. She was out.  She was OUT!? 

She wanted to be born before Christmas.  It was 11:29 p.m. on Christmas Eve, 8 days after the doctor's due date, 5 days after the due date I calculated, almost exactly 2 1/2 hours after we first strolled into triage, one hour after I was given a room, and 10 or 15 minutes after I decided that walking during contractions felt terrible.  Her name means.  "Christ's birth" and "God is gracious." 

The first thing I thought was, She's smaller than her sister.  She looks different than her sister.  All I could say was "That's it!?"  (I was in shock at how quickly she came.) Followed by "Hi baaaaby. Give her to me!"  Or something very similar.  However, since I was apparently still in need of the oxygen mask, My Stud had to help me hold her because I found that my fingers were stiffly curled up once again. Once again the nurse gave me the oxygen mask.

I wanted to know how badly I tore. "You didn't."

After I was able to hold her on my own, My Stud grabbed the camera.  He took several shots before he realized there was no memory card in it.   That is why there aren't any pictures (save one on Clay's phone) that prove the oxygen mask ordeal.

(For stat lovers like me, you should know that Smooch weighed 7 lbs. 9 oz. and was 21 inches long.)

I imagine there is no high as invigorating as an adrenalin high.  If it wasn't for the fact that I was bleeding more than a person is supposed to bleed after birth (due to Smooch's quick arrival), I would have called everyone myself and told them the whole story.  However, I left most of that to My Stud because I was busy getting drunk on pain meds and being worked on (or more accurately worked in) by a doctor who was visibly unhappy to be doing something (again) that was not her job.  Nope, I did not accept medication for labor and delivery, but there was no way I was letting anything back inside that very sore area without some serious drugging.  Even with the meds, it hurt enough to take my breath away.

After nursing, eating some fruit, and lots of waiting, a new nurse wheeled me off to our postpartum room.  As we said goodbye to my previous nurse, who was still marveling at the events she just witnessed, I'm not sure if I told her "You're welcome" or if I only thought it in my head.

I couldn't get over how thankful I felt for an amazing birthing experience.  I was also thankful that I followed my instincts to go to the hospital when we did.  If we had waited until my contractions were 4 - 5 minutes apart, like many professionals recommend, we would have had Smooch in the car, pulled over to the side of the road somewhere between here and there.

I also learned that if a birth experience like that is the result of a baby being really, truly ready to come, I'd take a "late" baby any day.  But...don't quote me on that. ;-)