It's hanging over my head, so I'm going to launch into my fifth birth story, whether or not I'm feeling a little winded. Then you, my readers, can read these birth stories at your leisure. Now that I've fallen behind, you'll have to scroll to find them, but hopefully they'll all be here at some point.
After my less-than-perfect (second) home birth experience, I thought I should head back to the hospital.
I just thought that my midwife here wasn't what my first one had been, and also, I was closing in on 30.
Somehow it seemed that once I was in my 30's (even if only for three months) I should be in a "safer" environment.
Keeping in mind that I still had never not induced, once again I pushed to induce early. I seriously wish I had not been so traumatized by my 9 pound first baby and had the courage to trust and wait for natural labor. But I didn't. And this baby, induced a week early, was a 8 pound 12 ounce boy...so, I still felt justified.
I had spoken with my doctor about having fast labors and big babies and she was more than happy to schedule an induction. I told her that pitocin did not work on me or my sister (did I say this in birth story #2? I was on pit for two hours, my sister was on all day, neither of us went into labor until they broke our water). I told her I wanted them to break my water. She was fine with that. I also mentioned that I had had two water births and that I thought it helped. She said there was a jacuzzi tub at the hospital. I was happy.
The morning of induction my husband and I arrived, ready for a baby. The nurse said she was going to start the pitocin. Except we weren't planning on that kind of induction. We said the doctor agreed to breaking my water. She called the doctor (who wasn't there yet) and she got permission to break my water. I went into the halls to walk. The nurse came out a few minutes later (fifteen) and said that if I wasn't in active labor in a half an hour (from induction, so, in fifteen minutes) they'd be starting pitocin. There are many reasons why that's ridiculous, but I agreed. 30 minutes after induction I was on my side, with heavy back labor, my husband dutifully counter-pressuring my back with each contraction. I was at 7cm dilation, and felt like I was "getting there". The nurse checked my progress and announced that the baby was in anterior position.
I had never had a baby in anterior position before, so I asked if this was ok. She said yes, but it could cause labor to be much slower and more painful. Thankyouforthat. Honestly, at 7 cm dilation, in active labor, those kinds of helpful tips aren't so helpful. I asked what might help. She suggested I change positions. I sat on a birthing ball. I put my head lower than my rump. I was in pretty serious labor and wondering how I could get my baby to flip (which was unnecessary, and never happened). I asked if I could get into the jacuzzi tub. She said "I could see if I can get an order for that...usually it's not allowed if your membranes are ruptured...and we need the fetal monitor, so you'd have to come out to get readings..." (I would dearly love to know just how many times those tubs have been used, ever!) I said to skip it.
Finally, I sat up one last time and a nerve in my back tripped. A "zing" of pain surged in my spine, and remained. I asked for IV drugs. I had never used them before and thought I might get through by just "taking the edge off". The drugs stopped my labor.
An hour later the drugs wore off, my back pain was still there, and I headed into transition labor (these are the contractions that get that baby out!) I was struggling to manage the contractions since the drugs left me woozy. I asked the doctor to check me and I was at a 7 and a half. One half centimeter in an hour, but that was because of the drugs slowing progress down. At the time, I didn't think of that. Apparently neither did my doctor. She said I might need pitocin to get my contractions to be strong enough to deliver the baby.
I knew one thing: I was "ok" now, but I could not handle transition strength contractions plus pitocin. I
panicked and tried to figure out if I should get an epidural to handle the extra pain that pitocin would bring. The anesthesiologist was called in. The nurse checked me: I was at a NINE! (For those less schooled in labor, you push at 10 cm.) Instead of saying "girl, you are so there! This baby is coming, give it one more contraction!" I was looked at in the eyes and very seriously and intensely told "This is the absolute last minute if you want an epidural!" I got one. The pain was instantly gone. And my blood pressure dropped. Drastically. My less-than-collected nurse had a distinct note of "concern" in her voice as she read my blood pressure numbers to the anesthesiologist. They began giving me fluids. I felt sick, I felt faint, the numbers kept dropping.
At this point I looked at my husband, seated next to me with his head in his hands and through his fingers he raised his eyes to me and mouthed "I love you". He had done this once before in an extremely scary plane flight into Denver, where the turbulance was tossing our plane to and fro and children were crying and I was praying desperately that we'd land safely. In other words, I thought that death was a distinct possibility. I thought "I'm going to see Jesus" and tried to collect myself to make an act of contrition. How bad is this?
Well, they stabilized me and my son was born alive and well in about a minute. That birth experience wasn't really what I had hoped it would be. Number six was back at home. Stay tuned.
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